Refuge
by dhawthorne
Summary: Part of the "Teacher or a Leader?" storyarc - set between "First Night" and "A Teacher or a Leader?" Jean Brodie seeks refuge in the embrace of Gordon Lowther.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

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Set after "That Night at the Studio", "A Breezy Day", and "First Night". Precedes "A Teacher or a Leader?" and "Can't Repeat the Past".

Disclaimer: Don't own The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. The poems "My love is like a red, red rose" and "My Nanie's Awa" were written by Robert Burns.

Dedicated to kissofdeath, KristaMarie, and tabbyhearts.

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She had noticed that Gordon was attracted to her as soon as she had begun teaching at Marcia Blaine – he was always so polite to her, so kind and cordial. She could tell that he was attracted to her because he let his gaze linger on her a few seconds longer than it would have if he was not.

All throughout her first year of teaching, she had ignored his shy, subtle advances, but when Teddy had abandoned her after their one night together at the studio, she had begun paying more attention to Gordon, her only other colleague of interest. And when Teddy had tried to get her to come to the studio again, she lied and said that she was invited to Cramond.

So Jean had managed to get Gordon to invite her to Cramond that Sunday. And, in a continued effort to avoid having her heart broken once more by Teddy, she began a relationship with Gordon. She had carefully planned her seduction of Gordon, knowing that, like a highly-strung thoroughbred horse, he would shy away easily from her advances.

And Jean had been successful in securing Gordon Lowther as her lover, thanks to her careful planning and her impeccable instinct. He was not very talented in the arts of love – she strongly suspected that he had had few lovers before her. But now that she had ensnared him, she knew that she could make him do anything for her.

In his arms Jean sought a soft, shy shelter from the world, away from the battles she fought with Miss Mackay at school, away from her broken heart, away from Teddy. With Gordon, Jean did not have to be strong. He took care of her, cherished her, loved her. While she did not love him nearly as much as he loved her, she tried.

And now Jean was preparing for dinner with Gordon. He would be arriving in fifteen minutes to pick her up and take her out for supper. And afterwards he would bring her back to his house for the weekend – if all went according to plan, that is. She could tell that he was still very uncertain about the state of their relationship, even though they had spent last weekend together – most of it in bed. Jean pulled herself out of her reverie as a knock sounded on her door. She opened the door, revealing Gordon.

"Hello, Gordon," Jean said, smiling. He was clutching a bouquet of roses.

"Hello, Jean," he said nervously, bending down to kiss her cheek. She turned her head slightly so that his lips landed on hers. He pulled back, blushing.

"Won't you come in for a moment?" Jean suggested, and he nodded, still blushing, and took a seat on the couch. Jean placed the roses in a vase and set them on the small coffee table in her sitting room.

"You look beautiful, Jean," Gordon said, and Jean graced him with a loving smile.

"Thank you, Gordon," she replied. "You look very handsome." He blushed once more.

"Thank you." He stood up. "Are you ready?"

"Just a moment," Jean replied. "I need to get my coat." She walked over to her closet and took out her coat; just as she began to slip it on, Gordon came around behind her and helped her with her coat. She turned and smiled at him.

"Thank you," she said, and picked up her bag.

"Oh, I can take that," Gordon said, taking the bag out of her hand. She smiled up at him once more as they left the flat.

They had a quiet, romantic dinner at a small bistro, holding hands throughout most of the meal. Jean had drunk several glasses of wine in preparation for the weekend to come – she didn't mind spending time with Gordon (after all, she had started this relationship), but when she was in bed with him she longed for Teddy. Gordon had not drunk anything but water – he was intoxicated enough by the woman beside him.

Finally, they finished dinner, and Gordon and Jean walked back to his car. Before he could open the door for her, she pulled him into an alcove and kissed him lightly. He could taste the wine on her breath.

When he broke the kiss, she looked up at him, confused.

"What's the matter, Gordon?" she asked, running her hands down his chest.

"Jean, I don't want to take advantage of you," he whispered. She looked up at him.

"You're not, Gordon. I want to be with you," she lied.

"Really?" he asked her. She nodded.

"Why don't we go back to your house?" Jean suggested. "And we can have a glass of wine and talk things over."

He nodded, and they walked to the car. Jean was being very distracting to him, resting her hand lightly on his knee, looking over at him and smiling. It seemed like an eternity before they reached his home.

Gordon helped Jean out of the car and took her bag from the boot. They walked inside, Jean linking her arm through his. Leading her to his parlour, Gordon poured them both a glass of wine before joining her on the couch.

"To us," Jean said, clinking her glass against his. He watched her as she drank the wine, finally taking a sip himself. She set down her glass, now half-empty.

"Gordon," Jean began. "I don't know how to say this..." she trailed off.

"Say what?" he asked her, concerned. "Are you all right?"

She smiled softly at him. "Yes, I'm fine. What I wanted to say was that, well, I love you." She lowered her eyes, looking up at him through her lashes. She didn't really love him – well, not the way she loved Teddy – but she was fond of him. After all, she didn't choose any man to share her bed. But she knew that he loved her, and knew that he wouldn't allow himself to make love to her again if she hadn't told him that she loved him.

Her plan had worked; he was beaming down at her.

"Oh, Jean," he whispered, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. "Oh, Jean, I love you too."

She leaned forward and kissed him; he deepened the kiss almost immediately, and she pulled him down on top of her. When they broke out of the kiss, he began to nuzzle her neck.

"Let's go upstairs," Jean suggested breathlessly, and he nodded, picking her up. "You're so wonderful, Gordon," she whispered as he carried her up the stairs. He smiled down at her. When they reached his bedroom, he laid her down on the bed and began the process of undressing her. He took his time, relishing in the way that more and more of her body was revealed to him.

"Jean, you're beautiful," he breathed, still overwhelmed by the absolute radiance of Jean Brodie.

"And you're still incredibly overdressed," she chuckled. He quickly took care of his clothes and joined her on the bed.

He was very aroused – and, extremely surprising to her, so was she. Perhaps it was the virtue of being with someone who wanted her, someone who loved her; or perhaps it was the fact that she needed to be close to someone so much. Whatever it was, she dismissed it from her mind as he captured her lips in a kiss.

Jean tried to speed things up – she needed him so much – but Gordon continued to move at a maddeningly slow pace.

"Gordon, please!" she cried out, begging him to go faster.

He shook his head – no – and continued to cover every centimetre of her body with kisses. Finally he stopped, and, moving back up her body, entered her. She gasped with pleasure as he moved slowly within her, even though she tried to make him increase the speed of his thrusts. Finally, he did, bringing them both closer and closer to orgasm.

"Yes!" she cried out, a note of triumph in her voice as she began to come. He watched her, the sight of his beautiful lover in the throes of rapture causing his own climax.

"Jean!" he yelled, thrusting into her once more. He collapsed on top of her, quickly rolling onto his back in order to not crush her. She moved with him.

"Oh, Jean," he breathed as they recovered, stroking her hair gently. She rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes.

"Mmm..." she whispered softly. "That was nice."

He pulled the covers over them and kissed the top of her head. "It was."

She smiled up at him sleepily. "I love you," she whispered, before allowing herself to slip into slumber.

He returned her smile, though she was asleep. "I love you too."

Jean woke up later that night and looked down at Gordon. He was handsome – though not as handsome as Teddy – and kind and good. And he wanted her and loved her. She knew that he would never leave her like Teddy had, and right now that was what she needed – stability. Jean was still so fragile from Teddy's rejection – she needed someone who wanted to be with her, wanted to protect her. And Gordon was that man.

With a tender hand, she stroked his hair, watching him sleep. He looked so peaceful, and Jean wished that she could feel that peace. He stirred slightly, so she removed her hand and snuggled back into his embrace. She drifted back off to sleep, warm and safe and sheltered in Gordon's arms.

The next morning, Jean was woken up by Gordon bringing her breakfast in bed.

"Good morning, Jean," Gordon said as she opened her eyes.

"Good morning, Gordon," she replied drowsily.

"I thought that you might like breakfast in bed," he said, setting the tray down on the nightstand. She beamed up at him.

"Thank you," she replied. He was far more considerate that Teddy had been.

"You're welcome," he replied. She pulled back the covers.

"Aren't you going to join me?" she asked, and he smiled down at her.

"If you'd like," Gordon replied, and she nodded. He handed her the tray and slipped into bed beside her.

They slowly fed each other breakfast, stopping often to kiss. When they were done, Gordon brought the dishes back downstairs. Jean had wanted to help, but he insisted that she relax.

She got dressed instead and then joined him downstairs.

"You could've stayed in bed longer if you liked," Gordon said.

"I know – but I wanted to be with you," she replied. This was not really a lie – she did like spending time with him, after all, and she wanted to go for a walk on the beach. She could easily combine the two things. "I thought we could go for a walk on the beach," she suggested.

"All right," Gordon readily agreed. Once the dishes had been finished, he and Jean stepped outside and began their walk along the seaside.

After a few metres, Jean slipped her hand in his. He looked down at her, startled, and she smiled up at him, squeezing his hand lightly.

"Isn't it a beautiful day?" Jean said brightly.

"Yes, beautiful," he said, speaking of her. She blushed.

They continued to walk down the beach, talking of light matters, not of serious things. After they had walked quite a distance, about half a kilometre, they turned back. Jean stopped him before they could begin the walk back to his house.

"Kiss me, Gordon," she whispered, holding his hand tightly.

"Here; now?" he asked her, looking uncertain.

"Yes, here; yes, now, Gordon," she replied, looping her arms around his neck.

He obliged, bending down slightly to capture her lips with his. They stood there, embracing, not noticing that it had started to rain. A clap of thunder startled them out of their kiss.

"Oh, dear," Jean laughed, now noticing the falling rain. "We'd best hurry back."

"Yes, we should," Gordon said, still slightly dazed from their kiss. She took his hand and began to pull him along, running back to Cramond.

Once they had reached the house, Jean and Gordon went up to the bathroom where he began to run a hot bath.

"We always seem to get wet, don't we?" Jean said, chuckling slightly as she began to undress. His eyes watched her hungrily, and she turned to him. "I hope that this time I don't have to ask you to join me."

"No," he replied, beginning to undress himself. "You don't need to ask." When the bathtub was halfway filled, Jean stepped in, then Gordon. Jean settled herself between his legs, her back resting against his chest.

He washed her body lovingly, tenderly caressing her breasts. Her breathing grew faster and she could feel his erection against her back. She moaned and turned to him.

"Oh, Gordon..." she trailed off as he captured her lips with his, pushing her against the bathtub. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he knelt in the tub, entering her.

"Yes, Gordon, yes!" she cried out. "Oh, God, Gordon!"

"Jean..." was all that he could manage, pushing deep within her. She clutched at the sides of the bathtub, her back arching. He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily.

"I love you, Jean."

"I love you, Gordon."

Later that afternoon, Jean made lunch for the two of them. She enjoyed cooking, and she felt that it was only fair for her to make lunch, as he had made breakfast. So while Jean made lunch, Gordon sang to her.

"O, my love is like a red, red rose,  
That's newly spring in June.  
O, my love is like a melody,  
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair thou art, my bonnie lass,  
So deep in love am I,  
And I will love thee still, my dear,  
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,  
And the rocks melt wi' the sun!  
And I will love thee still, my dear,  
While the sands of life shall run.

And fare thee well, my only love!  
And fare thee well awhile!  
And I will come again, my love,  
Tho it were ten thousand mile!"

Jean came into the sitting room, where the piano was, carrying their lunch on a tray.

"That was beautiful, Gordon," she said, smiling at him. She set the tray down on the coffee table.

"Let me just get the napkins and things," Jean said, walking back into the kitchen. She returned a few minutes later – Gordon had already filled her plate with her lunch. Jean joined him on the couch.

"Thank you," she said, smiling at him.

He smiled back at her.

Jean and Gordon had a quiet lunch, watching the rain lash at the windows. Once they were finished, Jean and Gordon washed the dishes together.

"Well, we can't take the boat out today," Gordon said. "And I do need to stop by the grocers. Would you mind terribly staying here while I get the groceries?"

"Of course not," Jean said, leaning over to give him a kiss. "I'll take a nap. I'm a bit tired from our... activities."

He blushed bright red, and she smiled at him. "I'll be back soon," he said, stooping to give her a kiss on her cheek. Once he had kissed her, she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips.

"I couldn't let you leave me without a proper kiss goodbye," Jean said, smiling up at him. "Hurry back."

"I will, I promise," Gordon replied. "Would you like anything in particular?"

She thought for a moment. "No, not really," she replied.

"All right," he said. "I'll be back shortly."

She smiled at him and stood in the window to wave as he drove away. She then went upstairs to take a nap.

A few hours later, she woke up, stretching. She felt much more refreshed – she had been tired. Getting dressed, she went downstairs to join her lover.

Gordon was sitting in front of the fire, reading a book, but he looked up when she entered the room.

"Hello, Jean," he said, setting the book aside. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"I did," she said, coming over to sit down next to him. "You should have woken me up, though."

"It's all right," he replied. "You were tired."

"Mmm..." she said, resting her head against his shoulder. "What were you reading?"

"A book of Robert Burns' poetry," he said, showing her the title.

"Will you read some to me?" she asked him. "Please?"

"All right," he said. He couldn't resist her. "Which poem?"

"Any one," she replied, closing her eyes, her head still resting against his shoulder.

He began to read.

"Now in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays,  
And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er the braes,  
While birds warble welcomes in ilka green shaw,  
But to me it's the delightless – my Nansie's awa.

The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn,  
And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn.  
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw:  
They mind me o' Nanie – and Nanie's awa.

Thou lav'rock, that springs frae the dews of the lawn  
The shepherd to warn o' the grey-breaking dawn,  
And thou mellow mavis, that hails the night-fa,  
Give over for pity – my Nanie's awa.

Come Autumn, sae pensive in yellow and grey,  
And soothe me wi' tidings o' Nature's decay!  
The dark, dreary Winter and wild-driving snaw  
Alane can delight me – now Nanie's awa."

She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. "Thank you, Gordon," she said.

He kissed her forehead lightly, looking down into her eyes.

"I love you, Jean," he whispered.

"I know," she replied, her voice equally as soft. "And I love you."

He stroked her hair lightly as she rested her head in his lap. She turned over so that she was lying on her back, looking up at him.

"What would you like to do this afternoon?" he asked her.

"Hmm..." she said, pretending to think about it. She sat up, scooting into his lap, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Jean looked into his eyes.

His breathing grew heavy as she continued to look into his eyes, her gaze smouldering.

"Why don't we go upstairs?" she suggested breathily. He nodded, and she stood up, taking his hand. They walked up the many stairs to his bedroom, and, once they reached his bedroom, she began to undress, kicking off her shoes.

"Gordon, will you undo my zipper, please?" she asked him. He nodded, his fingers fumbling with the delicate zipper of her dress. He finally managed it and her dress pooled around her feet. She was clad only in her underwear (she had forgone the slip), and she looked absolutely beautiful.

"Oh, Jean," he said. He still could not believe that she wanted him, could not believe that in a few moments they would both be naked together, between the sheets of his bed, making love.

Jean had finished getting undressed and her hands were at the sporran of his kilt, unfastening it. She pulled his kilt down, her eyes hungry as she began to unbutton his shirt.

"Oh, yes," she murmured, tracing the contours of his chest. She looked up at him. "Make love to me, Gordon," she whispered, pleading him. "Please."

He nodded, lowering his head to nuzzle her neck, pushing her back towards the bed. She obliged him, walking back until she reached the bed, then toppled over it. She moaned as he joined her, rolling her onto her side. He entered her from behind and she gasped in surprise. They had only made love a relatively few times, but she had never expected him to try something other than the ordinary missionary position. The first time that they had made love, Jean had been on top, but he hadn't felt very comfortable with that.

But now... now he was taking her like this of his own volition, and she loved it. Grasping at the sheets, she moaned as one of his hands slipped between her legs and the other fondled her breast.

"Oh, Gordon!" she cried out, surprised at the suddenness of her climax. "Oh, yes!"

She clenched around him and, unable to restrain himself any longer, he began to come, pushing into her once more.

"Jean," he whispered, once he had pulled out of her and was laying there with his arms wrapped around her. "I hope that was... the way that I... I mean, was that all right?"

She smiled up at him. "Oh, yes, Gordon," she whispered. "It was far more than 'all right' – it was wonderful.

He returned her smile. "I'm glad, Jean. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable, Gordon – not at all," she said, kissing his chest. "It was wonderful – you were wonderful."

"As were you," he whispered, nuzzling her hair. "But you always are."

He looked down at her when she did not reply – she was sleeping, her blue eyes closed, her chest rising and falling in time with her even breathing, her golden hair glistening. She was so beautiful, so radiant – an absolute goddess.

He couldn't bear to wake her, but he couldn't bear to intrude on her privacy – especially while she was asleep. He felt that watching her sleep was a privilege that he was not entitled to – not yet, at least. Though they had made love – several times, in fact – he did not believe that he should be allowed to be in this goddess's presence when she was asleep – she was so perfect, so beautiful, and far, far too good for him. So he gently extricated himself from her embrace, trying not to wake her. He was unsuccessful – she stirred, opening her eyes.

"Gordon?" she asked him sleepily, reaching for his hand. "Why are you leaving?"

"I didn't mean to wake you," he apologised.

"Come back to bed," she whispered, pulling at his hand.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes, please, Gordon," she said. Even half-asleep, she was well aware that this would be a turning point in their relationship, and she made sure to remain calm and perpetuate the illusion that she was still half-asleep. "Unless you don't want to stay..." she trailed off.

"I do, Jean, but I feel as though I'm invading your privacy," he explained.

"You're not, Gordon," she said. "Please stay."

He nodded, joining her in bed once again. She encouraged him to wrap his arms around her as she rested her head against his chest once more, falling asleep again. He watched her as she slept, soothed by the fact that she wanted him to stay with her. Finally he fell asleep as well.

Later that evening, they both woke up and went down to make dinner. While they were eating, they discussed their plans for tomorrow.

"I have to direct the choir tomorrow," Gordon said.

"I would like to come with you, Gordon, if you don't mind," Jean said.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," she replied, taking his hand.

He smiled at her, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of her hand. "Thank you, darling."

"You're welcome," she replied, smiling slightly at him. She stood up to gather the dirty dishes.

"I can do that," Gordon said, taking the dishes out of her hands.

"All right," Jean said, smiling slightly. She gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to take a bath, then."

He smiled at her.

"I do hope that you'll join me in bed when you're finished," Jean said, and he nodded.

"Of course, Jean," he replied. She gave him one last kiss on the cheek before she went upstairs to take her bath.

As she stretched out in the tub, Jean thought of Teddy.

She was in love with him, and oh! she wanted to be with him. But he had rejected her, had left her alone that morning after making love. And now he was trying to persuade her to come back to the studio, to come see the portrait that he had finished – the portrait of her.

But she couldn't. She wouldn't allow herself to fall under his spell again. She was a woman in her prime, and she would not betray that by letting that man know that he had such a hold on her. But she loved him...

"Jean?" Gordon called, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"Yes?" she replied.

"Would you like anything to drink before bed?" he asked.

"No, thank you," she called back. What she did want was a glass of wine, but she couldn't have Gordon thinking that she could only sleep with him if she was intoxicated. "I'll be out in a minute," she added, and stepped out of the tub.

"Take your time," he replied, but she pulled the drain anyway. She quickly dried off – she knew that taking her time wouldn't change the fact that it was Gordon who was waiting for her, not Teddy – and walked into the bedroom, only a towel wrapped around her.

Gordon was in bed, dressed in his pyjamas, reading a book, but he looked up when he saw her enter the room. Setting aside his book, he stood to greet her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She placed her hands on his chest. He rested his forehead against hers as he pulled the towel away from her body, letting it drop on the floor.

"Oh, Jean," he breathed.

She ran her hands along his chest, unbuttoning his pyjama top. She began to kiss his chest, moving down his body, finally ending at the waistband of his pyjama trousers, which she yanked down. She had felt him growing more and more aroused as she kissed his chest, and he couldn't wait any longer to take her. He backed her up against the wall, pressing himself against her, and lifted her up slightly. She wrapped her legs around his waist and lowered herself onto him.

"Jean," he moaned, pushing her harder against the wall, thrusting within her almost violently. He needed her, needed her so much, even though they had made love twice that day.

She loved it – loved having him take her hard against the wall. He had never shown any sort of initiative with her – not even with trying to make his desire to court her known – she had had to show him everything. But something had changed in him – ever since he came back with the groceries, in fact. She wondered what had happened to have altered him so dramatically.

He had simply had time to think over their relationship. Away from Jean, he realised that she would soon grow bored of him if he didn't try new things. And so he had, and she seemed to enjoy it.

She was enjoying this, too, it seemed – she was clutching at his back, crying out his name.

"Oh, oh, oh!" she moaned, going limp in his arms. He pushed into her one last time and came.

"God, Jean," he murmured. "You're so wonderful."

"So are you, Gordon," she said. And right now, he was. He wouldn't leave her, he loved her, and he wanted her. "Let's go to bed, hmm?" she suggested, and he nodded, carrying her to bed.

"I love you, Jean," he whispered.

"And I love you, Gordon," she replied. And in that moment, she did. Giving him one last kiss, they drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

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Dedicated to kissofdeath, KristaMarie, micha, and tabbyhearts.

* * *

Gordon woke up early the next morning in order to watch his lover sleep. She really was beautiful – absolutely perfect. Right now she was lying on her side, her arms wrapped around his waist, nestled in his arms. The sheet had slipped down slightly, and he could see the curves of her breasts... he felt himself becoming aroused. Gordon got out of bed and went to his bathroom to take a cold shower. He could not make love to her before church – it would be a sacrilege. But he wanted her so much...

Twenty minutes later, he emerged from the shower and dried off, getting dressed. When he emerged from the bathroom, he saw Jean sitting up in bed, the sheet barely hiding her breasts from his view.

"Good morning, Gordon," she said, smiling softly at him.

"Good morning, Jean," he replied. "I'll go down and start breakfast, hmm?"

"All right," she said. "I'll be down shortly – I just need to wash up."

"Take your time, my dear," he said. "We still have an hour before we need to leave."

"All right," Jean replied, climbing out of bed. He averted his eyes as she wrapped his dressing gown around her. She then walked over to him and gave him a light kiss on the lips.

"What would you like for breakfast?" he asked.

"Whatever you would like," Jean replied.

"How about an omelette?" he suggested, and she nodded, smiling.

"That sounds wonderful," she replied.

"I'll get started on breakfast, then," he said.

She nodded and watched as he walked down the stairs. She stepped into the bathroom to get ready.

Fifteen minutes later, she was ready for church, and walked downstairs, entering the kitchen. He was standing at the stove, flipping the omelette onto a plate. He divided it in half and placed half on each of the two waiting plates. Picking them up, he turned around, and was surprised to see Jean standing in the doorway, smiling softly at him.

"Good morning again, Gordon," she said, stepping toward him. "Breakfast smells delicious."

"Thank you," he replied. They walked into the dining room and sat at the table, eating their breakfast. A half an hour later, they were finished, and they set their dishes in the sink to soak. It was time for them to leave, so they gathered their coats and walked outside to his car.

Church passed very quickly, and afterwards they returned to Cramond. It was still raining a bit, so they went straight inside.

"I suppose I should change out of this frock," Jean said. "Would you care to help me?"

"Oh, yes," he breathed. She smiled, leading him up the stairs to his bedroom.

She was wearing a dress of deep purple today, which brought out the colour in her cheeks. Once they had entered the bedroom, she turned around, and he unzipped the dress. Jean carefully stepped out of it, walking to the wardrobe to hang it up, before turning back to Gordon.

She was wearing a white silk slip, its lace hem stopping just above her knees. He felt his own knees grow weak as she shimmied out of it, letting it and her undergarments drop on the floor behind her.

Though he had seen her nude several times now, each time he was overwhelmed with her beauty. And she was beautiful. The rain had stopped, and the sun shone through the windows, a halo of light surrounding her. He could not believe that any angel was more beautiful than she was at this very moment.

"Oh, I love you, Jean," he whispered, approaching her almost fearfully, as though she was an angel.

"And I you, Gordon," she replied, reaching out to him. She began once again to undress him, letting his clothes drop to the ground behind them. Gordon bent and captured her lips with his. He began stepping backwards towards the bed, and he fell back against it, bringing Jean with him. She laughed as she landed on top of him.

"Oh, Jean," he breathed, rolling her onto her back. "You are beautiful, oh so beautiful," he whispered.

She smiled up at him, burying her fingers in his thick blond hair.

"Gordon," she said. "Make love to me."

He nodded, kissing her once more. She clutched at his back and tried to pull him closer to her. He obliged, entering her, and she moaned.

"Oh, my darling," he groaned, pumping within her. "Oh, yes, Jean; my darling, darling, Jean."

"Gordon!" she cried out. "Yes, Gordon!"

He collapsed on top of her.

"Oh, Jean," he breathed, cradling her in his arms. She rested her head against his chest, and she sighed happily, contentedly. "I love you; I love you so much."

She smiled up at him. "And I love you, Gordon." It was true – over these past two weeks she had fallen in love with him – a little bit, at least. She still loved Teddy... my God, how she still loved Teddy... but she knew that he didn't love her. Gordon did, at that endeared him to her.

"Will you stay the night?" he asked, whispering in her ear. She turned to him.

"Why don't you stay the night at my flat, like last weekend?" she suggested.

"All right," he replied. He began to extricate himself from her embrace.

"We don't need to leave yet, Gordon. Stay, please?" she asked, looking up at him. He nodded, lying down once more. She sighed happily as he began to stroke her hair.

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke.

"Will you spend next weekend with me, Jean? Please?"

She turned in his arms so that she could look up at him. "I would love to, Gordon, but I promised that I'd have my girls over for lunch on Sunday."

"Couldn't you have your lunch here?" Gordon suggested.

"Oh, but I couldn't trouble you, Gordon," she replied, lowering her eyes demurely. In fact, she had wanted him to suggest that very option.

"Please, Jean," he said.

"All right, Gordon," she replied. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Jean." He kissed her forehead lightly. "So... you'll spend next weekend with me?"

"Of course, darling," she replied.

He looked down at her in wonder. "You called me darling," he whispered, smiling broadly.

"Do you mind?" she asked. She knew that he didn't mind.

"No, of course not, but..." he trailed off.

"But what?" she asked

"I didn't think that you felt that way about me," he said.

"I do," Jean said, smiling indulgently at him. "I don't go to bed with every man I'm attracted to, Gordon."

"I never meant to imply that, Jean," he said, blushing embarrassedly. "What I meant was, well, I still can't believe that you want to be with me. You're so perfect, Jean, and you could do so much better than me."

"But I want to be with you," Jean said.

"I'm so glad of that, Jean," he replied, tilting her chin up. "I love you so much." He bent down and captured her lips in a sweet kiss. Jean wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss.

"Show me your love, Gordon," she whispered. "Please, darling."

He rolled her onto her back, kissing her once more. His lips left hers, trailing down her neck to her breasts. He stayed there for quite some time, lavishing her breasts with attention. She moaned, tangling her fingers in his hair, holding his head against her chest.

He looked up at her. "I love you, Jean," he whispered.

"I love you, Gordon," she replied. He moved back up her body and captured her lips again, entering her.

"Jean," he moaned.

"Oh, Gordon," she moaned in reply. He continued to move within her, grunting as he increased the speed of his thrusts. "Yes, yes, yes!" she cried out, beginning to come. She clutched at his back, pulling him deeper within her.

"Jean – my darling, darling Jean," he groaned, pushing deep within her once more. He collapsed on top of her, and she wrapped her arms around him, not letting go as he rolled onto his back. She moved with him, resting against his chest.

"I love you, Jean," he whispered, kissing her cheek lightly.

"And I you, Gordon," she replied. The sun had begun to set, the last rays lighting up her hair, making it glow a bright gold.

"You're so beautiful, Jean," he said, caressing her cheek lightly.

"Thank you, Gordon," she replied, smiling softly. She leaned into his touch. "We'd best be getting ready to go to my flat," Jean said.

"All right," he replied. He climbed out of bed and turned to her. "Jean?" he said, shyly.

She looked up at him, her hair glowing gold, her blue eyes filled with affection – for him.

He wanted to ask her to marry him at that moment, but her beauty made him speechless once again.

"Yes, Gordon?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Never mind," he said.

"All right," she said, smiling at him a bit confusedly. She crawled out of bed and got dressed, packing up her things.

They drove into Edinburgh, to Jean's flat, and they walked up the stairs. She unlocked the door and they stepped inside.

"Why don't I take you out to dinner, Jean?" he suggested.

"All right," she agreed. He brought his bag into the bedroom, then rejoined her in the parlour.

"Ready?" he asked, and she nodded, taking his proffered hand. She entwined her fingers with his and smiled up at him. They left her flat, going to the same restaurant they had dined at on Friday. And after supper, they returned to her flat.

It was late, and Jean was tired.

"Do you mind if we just go straight to bed?" Jean asked, putting an apologetic expression on her face.

"Of course not, my dear," he said, stroking her hair. She smiled up at him.

"Thank you," she said, yawning. "I'll go get changed."

"All right," he said. A few minutes later, she emerged, dressed in a white crêpe-de-Chine nightdress. She joined him on the sofa.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Jean asked him.

"No, thank you," he said. "I'll get changed." He went into the bedroom, emerging a few minutes later. She was half asleep, stretched out on the sofa. Gordon picked her up and brought her into the bedroom, setting her on the bed.

"What time should I set the alarm clock?" he asked.

"Six thirty," she murmured, crawling between the sheets. He wound the alarm clock and set it back on the nightstand. He joined her in bed; she immediately snuggled up to him.

"Good night, Jean," he whispered, kissing her forehead lightly.

She smiled up at him drowsily. "Good night, Gordon," she replied.

"I love you, Jean," he said.

"Mmm, me too," she replied, yawning again. She drifted off to sleep, and he joined her a few moments later.

The next morning, Jean woke up first, a half an hour before the alarm clock went off. She climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb Gordon, and entered the bathroom. She took a quick shower and then dried off, stepping out of the shower and slipping into her dressing gown. She then went into the kitchen and began making breakfast for the two of them.

As she finished their breakfast (bacon, eggs, and sconces), she heard the alarm clock ring and heard Gordon stir in the bedroom. He emerged a few moments later.

"Good morning, Gordon," Jean said, turning to him, their breakfast on two plates.

"Good morning, Jean," he replied, smiling at her.

He sat down at the table and she brought the plates over to the table. She joined him, and they ate their breakfast quietly.

"Is it all right if I take a shower, Jean?" he asked, once they were finished with their breakfast.

"Yes, of course," she said.

He smiled at her, and impulsively she leaned across the table to give him a kiss.

"My girls and I are having a picnic today," she said. "Will you join us?"

He smiled at her. "Of course," he said, beaming.

"I'll make the lunch, then, while you take your shower," she said.

"All right," he agreed, and left the room. She heard the shower turn on and she began packing the picnic lunch – a baguette, pâté de foie gras, some apples (from Gordon's orchard – he had brought some back for her), cheese, and some sparkling cider to drink.

She had finished packing the picnic basket and then went back to her bedroom to get dressed for the day. Fifteen minutes later, she and Gordon were ready to head to Marcia Blaine.

"I'll see you at school, Gordon," Jean said, kissing him lightly on the lips before they left the flat.

"All right, Jean," he replied. "I love you."

"And I love you," she replied. They walked down the stairs and Jean took out her bicycle, strapping the basket onto the back. With one final wave to Gordon, she left, pedalling to Marcia Blaine.

She got there a few minutes later – it was only a few blocks away, after all – and she arrived just as her girls did. They helped her bring her bag and the picnic basket up to her room.

"Mr. Lowther will be joining us for lunch today," Jean said. "And we'll be having our Sunday lunch at Cramond this week."

Jenny and Sandy exchanged a look behind Jean's back.

Gordon did join them for lunch, and her girls all noticed how Gordon stared at Jean all throughout lunch. They went off to the common room early to have a cup of tea before classes started.

Teddy had watched them from the window of the common room, glancing over the top of his newspaper. He watched Gordon and Jean having lunch with her girls, watched him flirt with Jean. And she was responding to his flirtations. He watched as Gordon stood up from the bench and extended his hand down to Jean. She took it, smiling, and they walked into the building.

A few moments later, they entered the common room, and Teddy looked up as Jean stepped in. She was so beautiful...

There were only two free seats left – both on the sofa next to him. So Jean had no choice but to sit next to Teddy on the sofa while Gordon made her a cup of tea.

"Hello, Miss Brodie," Teddy said, setting down his newspaper.

"Hello, Mr. Lloyd," she said stiffly. She turned away from him slightly.

Gordon came back to the sofa, carrying two cups of tea.

"Here you are, Miss Brodie," he said, handing her a cup of tea. She beamed up at him, and Teddy felt a pang of jealousy.

"Thank you, Mr. Lowther," she replied. He returned her smile and sat down next to her.

Teddy could not stand watching their shared glances, Lowther's tentative touches of Jean's hand; could not stand the way that Jean refused to look at him. Finally, the bell rung – and while he did not want to leave Jean, he was glad that he would no longer have to watch the interaction between Lowther and Jean. He was jealous – so jealous – but he knew that it was his fault. He never should have left her that morning after they made love, because now he would have to watch her with Gordon.

While he was lost in his thoughts, Jean swanned out of the common room, Gordon looking after her adoringly. Teddy, hearing the door slam, looked up and realised that Jean was gone. He stood up himself and left the common room, walking to his classroom, ready to teach his next class.

Jean had been so uncomfortable sitting next to Teddy on the sofa – she was so close to him, yet so far...

"Hello, Miss Brodie," he had said, setting down his newspaper. His voice was intoxicating...

"Hello, Mr. Lloyd," she had replied stiffly. She didn't want to fall under his spell again. Luckily, Gordon had rescued her, however inadvertently, by joining her on the sofa with a cup of tea. And in that moment, she loved him. She spent the rest of the lunch period chatting with Gordon, trying to forget that Teddy was only centimetres from her. She could smell his intoxicating scent, feel the heat of his body against her, could feel his eyes on her... Oh, God, it took every bit of her self-control to not throw herself in his arms. She wanted him, she loved him, and oh! how she needed him. But she would not betray herself by beginning an affair with a man who had abandoned her.

Finally, after what seemed like years, the bell rang. With one final smile to Gordon, she breezed out of the common room and went to teach her class. She was glad to leave both men behind – it was far, far too complicated to ignore one and focus all of her attention on the other.

She was incredibly glad to be able to escape to her flat after school, and was even more glad that she would be able to be alone. She did not mind spending her time with Gordon, but she needed time to herself.

So she took a long, hot bath that evening to think over what, exactly, she was doing.

She was having an affair with Gordon. But why?

Yes, she was attracted to him, and yes, she was a little in love with him. But why else? She didn't want to marry him.

She wanted to use him to keep Teddy away from her. She knew that the next time that he kissed her, she would not be able to resist him. Hopefully, now that it was obvious that she was seeing (and sleeping with) Gordon, he would stop pursuing her.

But she didn't want him to stop pursuing her – she wanted to know that he wanted her, that he needed her, that he loved her... but those were just dreams. He didn't need her or love her. But she needed him, wanted him, loved him...

Her head was spinning, and she drained the bathtub, climbed out, and dried herself off. Jean stepped into her kitchen and made herself a soothing cup of tea. She wouldn't think any more about her relationship with Gordon – or with Teddy, for that matter – now, but would drink her tea and go to sleep.

She washed out her teacup and the teapot and went back to her bedroom. Jean climbed between the sheets and leaned over to turn off the light when she saw Gordon's pyjamas draped over the back of the chair for her vanity. She climbed out of bed and picked them up, holding them to her nose, breathing in his scent. She was seized with such a longing for him at that moment, and she slipped the pyjama top over her own nightgown. Climbing back between the covers, she fell asleep and dreamed of Gordon Lowther.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

Dedicated to kissofdeath, KristaMarie, micha, and tabbyhearts.

* * *

Jean woke up early the next morning, still wrapped in Gordon's pyjama shirt. She had been afraid last night that she would dream of Teddy, which would weaken her resolve to continue to deny him, but she had dreamed of Gordon instead. He really was wonderful, Jean thought to herself as she stepped into the shower. He was so kind, so gentle, and right now, so perfect for her.

After her shower, she made sure to carefully fold Gordon's pyjamas and place them under her pillow. She would tell him later this afternoon that he had left his pyjamas there. Jean made her breakfast quite quickly, then finished getting ready for school. She did not need to worry about packing a lunch, as she would be eating with the rest of her colleagues. Jean walked her bicycle out of the narrow hallway of her building and pedalled to Marcia Blaine.

The morning passed quickly – while she did not see Gordon, she did not see Teddy either. Soon, it was time for lunch, and Jean sat down at the teacher's table, next to Gordon. He smiled at her.

"Jean, I didn't happen to leave my pyjamas at your flat, did I?" he asked, his voice low. She nodded.

"I'll bring them this weekend," she replied in an equally soft voice, just as the other chair next to her was pulled out. She looked up – Teddy Lloyd was standing over her.

"Is this seat taken, Miss Brodie?" he asked, and she had no choice but to shake her head. She would remain composed...

She turned back to Gordon, but was forced once more to look at Teddy when he spoke to her.

"Miss Brodie, I would like you to come to the studio this weekend," he said. "I finished the picture – the one I was telling you about – and I'd like you to come see it."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lloyd," Jean replied. "I have another engagement."

She opened her mouth to begin to talk to Gordon, but once again Teddy spoke to her.

"Next weekend, then," he said.

"No, I'm sorry Mr. Lloyd, but I have plans," she replied, and turned to Gordon, involving him in a conversation about the mandolin, which was the first thing that came to mind. It was lucky that he knew so much about it.

Teddy was frustrated. He had tried nearly everything to get Jean to come back to his studio – for he knew that once she was there, she would be his again. He had kissed her, he had asked her to come back, he had done everything but use bodily force to bring her to see her portrait. Every night he kicked himself over leaving her without even saying goodbye that one morning after they had made love. It had been a mistake falling in love with her, but a bigger mistake in leaving her without even saying goodbye. He had realised far too late that he needed her.

He hadn't been able to get her out of his head. He loved her, loved her so much. He had tried to move past her, tried to paint other women since their night at the studio, but all of their portraits looked like her. She was taunting him, flaunting her relationship with Gordon Lowther in front of him, and he knew that he deserved it. He had hurt her, and he deserved to suffer. That didn't mean that he wanted to...

Jean could not bear it. Teddy was trying so desperately to convince her to come back to the studio, even though she knew that he knew that she was seeing Gordon Lowther. But the worst part about it was that he knew that she wanted to go back to the studio, to see the portrait he had painted of her, to fall into his arms once again. Oh, she wanted to be with him, more than anything... but she couldn't. She couldn't allow herself to betray her prime and once more sleep with a man who was not in love with her.

But wasn't she betraying her prime by sleeping with a man she wasn't in love with? She shook her head violently to get rid of those thoughts. She was in love with Gordon, a little bit, at least, and it was different. Gordon loved her, wanted her, needed her, and right now she needed him too. He was her refuge, and he took such good care of her. He loved her...

"Jean, are you all right?" Gordon asked her in a low voice, tentatively touching her hand. She pulled herself out of her thoughts and smiled softly at him.

"I'm fine – just lost in my thoughts," she said.

"Would you care to get a cup of tea in the common room?" he asked, and she nodded. He pulled out her chair and she smiled lovingly up at him.

Teddy watched them go, burning with envy. A few minutes later, he stood up and walked out of the dining hall, walking towards his classroom. He didn't want to watch their not-so-subtle flirtations. He stopped dead as turned the corner where his classroom was (Gordon's was next door, and Jean's was further down the hall), when he saw Gordon's arms wrapped around Jean, his lips on hers. She had one hand tangled in his hair and the other hand resting on his chest. They broke the kiss and looked at each other – Gordon was looking down at her lovingly while she looked up at him possessively.

"I'll pick you up at six o'clock on Friday, then?" he asked, and she nodded.

"I'm looking forward to this weekend, Gordon," she said, reaching up to caress his cheek. He took her hand before it could reach his cheek and brought her delicate hand to his lips, kissing it lightly.

"I love you, Jean," he whispered, but Teddy could hear every word.

"And I love you, Gordon," she replied. He could hear that, too, and it broke his heart. He knew that she didn't love Lowther, knew that she loved him, but it hurt all the same.

His eyes lit up at her confession of love and he bent down to kiss her again. His lips caressed hers softly, and even though his heart was breaking, he couldn't look away. She was so beautiful like this, her eyes closed, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed.

Oh God! how he wanted to be the one kissing her at that moment. She was so beautiful, so perfect – and he was so stupid to have left her that morning. He continued to watch as Gordon pulled back from her. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him.

"Oh, my darling," he whispered, brushing his thumb against her swollen lips. She smiled up at him.

"We'd better get to our classrooms," Jean whispered. "Lunch is almost over."

"All right," he replied.

"I'll bring your pyjamas with me on Friday," she said.

They were sleeping together? Teddy asked himself. How could she have given herself to Lowther – Lowther, of all people? He focussed his attention on Jean and Lowther again as Lowther spoke.

"I missed you so much last night," he said softly.

"And I missed you," Jean said. The warning bell rang, signalling that lunch would be over in five minutes.

"I've got to get ready for class," Jean whispered. "I'll see you this weekend."

"I can't wait, Jean," he replied. He bent down and gave her a very light kiss on her lips, and she smiled up at him once more, before turning to walk to her classroom. Both Gordon and Teddy watched her go, utterly transfixed by the woman known as Jean Brodie.

* * *

The rest of the week passed very quickly for Jean, Gordon, and Teddy, and at six o'clock on Friday evening Gordon arrived at Jean's flat. She was in the bathroom, getting ready for her weekend with Gordon. She set down her brush and stepped out of the bathroom. Her bag was by the door, which she opened, revealing Gordon Lowther.

"Hello, Gordon," Jean said, smiling at him.

"Hello, Jean," he replied.

"I'll be ready in a few minutes, Gordon; won't you come in?"

"Thank you, Jean," he said, stepping into her flat.

"I won't be but a moment," she said, stepping into the bathroom again. Jean finished brushing her hair and, a few minutes later, rejoined Gordon in the sitting room.

"Ready?" he asked, standing up from his seat on the sofa.

"Almost," she said, approaching him. She looped her arms around his neck. "I'd like a kiss before we leave."

"Of course, Jean," he said, bending down to kiss her lips lightly. She sighed happily into his mouth as his lips caressed hers. A few moments later, they broke out of the kiss.

"Thank you, Gordon," she said. He caressed her cheek.

"Of course, my dear," he replied.

"We ought to get going," she said, and he nodded, picking up her bag. Jean turned off the lights and locked the door to her flat behind them before taking her lover's arm and walking down the stairs with him.

By the time they arrived at Cramond, it was nearly time for supper, which Gordon's housekeeper had prepared in advance for them. They sat down to a nice, quiet dinner of salmon, salad, rolls, and, for dessert, a rich chocolate cake.

As they ate their cake, Gordon accidentally got a bit of chocolate icing on his upper lip.

"Oh, dear," Jean chuckled. She wiped the icing off with a gentle hand. He smiled sheepishly at her.

They soon finished their cake and then brought their dishes to the kitchen. Together they washed them up, Gordon washing and Jean drying. Once they were finished, Jean and Gordon went upstairs.

"I've missed you, Jean," Gordon whispered as soon as they reached his bedroom, placing his hands on her waist.

"And I've missed you," she replied. "Especially on Monday – I was so glad to have your pyjamas then..." she trailed off.

"Why?" he asked, curious.

She forced herself to blush, as though she was embarrassed. She was telling him this because she needed him to believe that she was as in love with him as he was with her. And what she was about to tell him was the truth, though she didn't particularly want to admit that. She had needed him so much that night...

"Well, I slept with them," she said, looking down at her feet. "I needed to feel as though you were close to me."

He lifted her chin. "Oh, my darling," he whispered softly, bending down to capture her lips with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, moaning as she felt his erection harden against her abdomen. "I love you, Jean," he whispered, breaking the kiss.

"Mmm, Gordon," she whispered, beginning to undress him. "Make love to me, please make love to me."

"Always," he replied, caressing her cheek. He began to undress her as well, trailing kisses down her collarbone.

Oh, how he loved this woman! He loved her so much, wanted to show her his love. When they were both naked, she pulled back from his kiss.

"Take me hard, Gordon," she whispered into his ear.

He moaned, pushing her against the wall, and she wrapped a leg around his hips.

"Like this, Jean?" he asked, breathing heavily as he pushed into her.

"Oh, yes!" she cried. "Oh, oh, yes!" He pumped within her, hard as she had demanded, and she moaned her pleasure.

"Jean, I love you," he groaned as he continued to thrust within her. "Oh, my darling, I love you."

"Gordon, Gordon!" she cried out as she began to come, her head thrown back in her passion. "Oh, yes!"

He thrust into her once, twice, three times more before he let himself climax, moaning her name as he allowed himself release.

She had never climaxed quite like that with Gordon before – never so... powerfully. It had been marvellous, and she told him so.

He smiled at her, picking her up in his arms, and carried her to the bed. She was tired – avoiding Teddy all week had been exhausting for her. She had been so terrified that he would confront her again...

"I love you, Jean," Gordon whispered to her, climbing into bed next to her.

She turned to him, seeking his warmth. "I know. And I love you."

He stroked her hair lightly, holding her close to him. She yawned tiredly.

"I'm sorry, Gordon," she whispered, kissing his chest lightly.

"It's all right, Jean darling," he said. "You're exhausted."

"Mmm, yes," she yawned again. "Good night."

"Good night, my love," he replied, kissing her forehead softly. She fell asleep, feeling warm and safe in his arms. She knew that he would never let anything harm her.

A few hours later, she sat up in bed, gasping. She had had such a disturbing dream... she was in the studio – Teddy's studio – again, staring at her portrait. She couldn't see it clearly at all, but she knew that it was beautiful. She could feel Teddy's arms around her waist.

"Jean," he whispered in her ear. "Jean..." he began kissing her neck. She pulled away from him, turning to look at him – he was smiling at her, looking so handsome, but then he disappeared into thin air.

"Where did you go?" she asked aloud, looking around. "Why do you keep leaving me?" She woke up.

Looking over to Gordon's side of the bed, she was very surprised to see that he wasn't there. She crawled out of bed and reached for her dressing gown; wrapping it around her slender frame, she walked downstairs. She could see the lights on in the kitchen, and entered the room.

Gordon was sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea, looking up when Jean entered the room. He could tell that something was wrong – she was trembling, pale as a ghost, and her eyes were wide.

"What's wrong, Jean?" he asked, standing up. She stepped into his embrace, resting her head against his chest, and began to cry. "Jean, darling, what is it?" She shook her head against his chest, continuing to sob.

Gordon felt utterly helpless in this situation – he did not know why she was crying. He abandoned his cup of tea and picked Jean up, carrying her up the stairs as she continued to sob. Laying her on the bed, he tried to step away from her for a moment, to get a handkerchief, but she would not let him go.

"Don't leave me, Gordon," she begged him, clutching at him. He nodded and joined her on the bed, sitting back against the pillows as Jean crawled into his lap. She buried her face against his neck and continued to cry. He stroked her back, trying to bring some measure of comfort to her. It helped – her sobs finally abated.

"What was the matter, Jean?" he asked her.

She looked up at him, tearstains marring her otherwise perfect features. "I had the most awful dream, Gordon," she whispered. "And when I woke up, you weren't here..." she trailed off. "Oh, Gordon, I need you so much," she said, wrapping her arms around him.

"Jean, my darling," he whispered, feeling awful that he wasn't there for her in her time of need. "I love you. I love you so much." He continued to kiss her, trying to reassure her of his love. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you, my darling. Everything will be all right..."

She nodded, looking up at him trustingly. "I love you, Gordon."

"I love you, too, my dearest, my darling," he whispered, and she smiled at him, snuggling even further into his embrace. Resting her head against his chest, she let his soft words of love lull her to sleep.

Gordon stayed awake, cradling his sleeping lover in his arms. He tenderly wiped the traces of her tears away, caressing her cheek softly. He loved her so much, and he wanted to make her happy. But he wasn't there for her when she had needed him that night, and he felt so guilty. It didn't matter that he was just downstairs – she had needed him when she had woken up, but he wasn't there.

He wasn't good enough for her – this incident proved that to him. He was not nearly good enough to share her bed, to share her life, to be allowed to be with her. Oh, he loved her, loved her so much, but could he make her happy?

Jean stirred, opening her eyes. "Gordon, darling, what's wrong?" she asked, bringing her hand up to caress his cheek. "You're crying."

He hadn't realised that he was crying. "I'm sorry, Jean," he whispered, and she stretched up to kiss away his tears.

"Oh, Gordon," she whispered. "Whatever for?"

"For not being there for you," he replied.

"Gordon, it's all right – you're here now," she said softly.

"But Jean..." he was cut off by her lips on his.

"Gordon, don't blame yourself," she whispered. "It's all right now."

"Really, Jean? You're not angry with me?" he asked her, hoping against hope that it was the case.

"Gordon, how could I be angry with you?" she asked him, looking into his eyes.

"I wasn't there for you when you needed me, Jean," he replied.

"It's all right, darling," she whispered. "I love you."

"And I love you, Jean – I love you so much," he replied. She began to kiss him, each kiss growing in passion, and she moaned as she felt his desire for her.

"Show me your love, Gordon," she whispered. "Please."

He obliged her, rolling her onto her back. She untied her dressing gown and discarded it while Gordon shed his own clothes.

"Yes, Gordon, please," she encouraged him, opening herself up to him. "Oh, my dearest..." she trailed off as his lips covered hers. She deepened the kiss but pulled out of it with a gasp as he entered her.

"Jean, Jean," he moaned, stroking within her. "Jean, my darling..."

"Gordon, Gordon," she murmured as he moved in her. "Oh, Gordon..."

They made love slowly, sensuously, and her climax was not so much an explosion as an unfolding of passion.

Afterwards, she lay in his arms, Gordon nuzzling the back of her neck.

"I love you, Jean," he whispered. He must have said that a dozen times in the past hour alone, but he meant it, meant it with all his heart.

"And I love you," she replied. And she meant it, too – but not with all her heart. She still loved Teddy more.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

Dedicated to kissofdeath, KristaMarie, micha, and tabbyhearts.

The lyrics used are from Rod McKuen's song "Jean", which was featured in the movie "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie".

* * *

They woke up early the next morning, the sun streaming through the windows. Jean stretched languidly in Gordon's arms, smiling up at him.

"Good morning, darling," he said, kissing her lightly on the lips. She returned his kiss, deepening it almost immediately. He rolled her onto her back, smiling as she twined her arms around his neck, holding him close.

"Good morning, Gordon," she replied after they broke out of their kiss.

"You look so beautiful like this, darling," he whispered, caressing her cheek softly.

She laughed. "Oh, really, Gordon," she said, chuckling. "I've just woken up – I can't be considered beautiful by any stretch of the imagination."

"You are, Jean," he said, kissing her lightly. "You are always beautiful, especially now."

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe you, Gordon," she said pertly.

"Really?" he asked her.

She nodded.

"Are you sure that I can't persuade you?" he asked her, smiling down at her.

"It can't hurt to try," Jean said. He began to kiss her and Jean moaned as she felt his erection against her abdomen.

"Jean, you are beautiful, so beautiful..." he said, trailing kisses down her collarbone. "The most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. You are wonderful, and I can't believe that you want to be with me. A woman like you could choose to be with anyone, but the fact that you chose me... oh, Jean..." he stopped as he covered her lips with his.

"Gordon," she whispered, pulling away from him. "Let me be on top this time."

"...all right, Jean," he said, after a moment's pause. He didn't particularly want to try this position again, but she wanted to, and he wanted to make her happy.

She smiled up at him and rolled him onto his back. Jean straddled him and began trailing kisses down his chest. Gordon groaned as she further aroused him, stroking his erection gently.

"Oh, Jean..."

She guided him into her, gasping as she moved on top of him.

"Oh, yes, Gordon!" she moaned. He grasped her hips tightly, pulling her down on top of him.

"Jean," he groaned. "Oh, Jean, Jean!"

She began to come with a gasp, throwing her head back as she clenched around him. "Oh, yes!" she cried. "Yes, Gordon, yes!"

"Jean, Jean!" he called out, pulling her down once more on top of him.

She collapsed in his arms.

"Was that all right, Gordon?" she asked him.

"Oh, yes," he breathed, stroking her hair. And it had been. He hadn't thought that it would be, but it had been wonderful.

"Good," she said. "I'm glad. I enjoyed it too – I enjoyed being able to bring you pleasure." She smiled down at him once more before rolling out of bed. "We'd best go downstairs and have breakfast," she said, turning to him. "And then we should pick up some groceries for tomorrow's lunch."

"All right, Jean," he agreed, crawling out of bed as well. They got dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. After they had finished their breakfast, Jean and Gordon got ready to go to the grocers, to prepare for tomorrow's lunch.

"What did you tell your girls – I mean, what did you tell them when you said that you were having your lunch here?" he asked as they drove into town.

"I said that you had invited me to accompany you to church," Jean said. "And then you had graciously offered to have us all over for lunch."

"Won't they suspect our relationship, Jean?" he asked her.

"Gordon, really! They are twelve years old," she said.

He blushed.

"I'm sorry, dear," she said apologetically, squeezing his knee lightly. "I didn't mean to sound ratty."

"It's all right, Jean," he replied, pulling up to the grocers. She looked around – she knew this neighbourhood – this was where Teddy had his studio. He turned off the car and smiled at her. "Ready?" he asked, and she had no choice but to nod and hope that they would not run in to Teddy.

But they did. Just as they were paying for their groceries, Teddy Lloyd entered. Jean wanted so desperately to run and hide from him, but he had seen her. He made his way over to them.

"Mr. Lowther, Miss Brodie," he said, nodding.

Gordon nodded. "Mr. Lloyd."

She nodded faintly. "Mr. Lloyd," she echoed.

Thankfully, the clerk had just finished ringing up their groceries, and Gordon picked up the parcels.

"Goodbye, Mr. Lloyd," Gordon said, and Jean smiled in relief.

As they walked out of the grocers, Jean could not resist looking back at Teddy – he was standing there, watching her walk away from him. It took all of Jean's willpower not to run back to Teddy. As it was, she slipped her arm through Gordon's and smiled up at him. Teddy deserved to suffer for abandoning her, she thought to herself, and, in that moment, she loved Gordon all the more.

They reached the car, and Gordon, always the gentleman, opened her door first, even before putting the groceries in the boot. After loading the boot with the groceries, he climbed into the car as well. She leaned over to him and kissed him lightly.

Teddy had followed them to the car and watched as Jean leaned over to Gordon and kissed him. He needed to win her back – he needed her so much. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and he loved her so much. She shouldn't be with Lowther – she should be with him. Teddy watched as they broke out of the kiss, Gordon caressing her cheek softly.

A few moments later, Jean pulled back, and Gordon turned on the car. He began to drive and, as they drove past him, Jean saw Teddy. She touched her fingertips gently to the window of the car and stared out at him. Her expression was one of pure longing as she stared at him. Teddy watched as the car drove away, carrying his former lover away from him.

Jean was rattled – it seemed that everywhere she went she saw Teddy. She couldn't bear it anymore – she was so in love with him, and she so wanted to be with him. But she had made up her mind – she chose to be with Gordon – Gordon who loved her, Gordon who wanted her, Gordon who needed her. But no matter how much she tried to make herself believe that, she knew that she would always be in love with Teddy, would always belong to him (as much as she hated to admit that. She was Jean Brodie, and she was a woman in her prime, and she resented belonging to anybody. But she knew that she belonged to him – had belonged to him ever since that night in the studio. She couldn't deny that fact, even though that was what she was trying to do in sleeping with Gordon.)

"Jean?" Gordon asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. "We're here. Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded. "Just thinking about tomorrow," she lied. "Thank you for letting us have our lunch here."

"Of course, Jean," he said, taking her hand. She graced him with a tender smile. "I'll bring the groceries in, darling."

"I'll get the door," she replied.

"Thank you," he said, smiling gratefully at her.

She stepped out of the car and opened the front door of his house. As he walked past her into the house, his arms laden down with groceries, he stopped to kiss her – he couldn't help himself. She stretched up to him, deepening the kiss. Soon, however, she pulled back.

"We've got to bring the groceries in," she whispered, and he nodded, still dazed from the kiss. However, he did bring in the groceries and put them away. Jean joined him in the kitchen.

As soon as she approached him, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her into an embrace, kissing her hungrily. She responded, though she was surprised – he had never shown that much passion before. When they finally broke out of the kiss for air, she looked at him.

He wanted her so desperately, that much was clear. He was aroused, more aroused than he had been in his entire life, and he wanted her so badly. He couldn't wait to bring her upstairs to his bed, so he lifted her up and perched her on the edge of the kitchen table.

Jean was utterly surprised when he picked her up and set her down on the kitchen table, and even more surprised when he began undressing her. She wondered what on earth had brought on his obviously uncontrollable desire for her. She certainly didn't mind. Jean began to undress him, tossing his clothes behind him. Once they were both naked, he pushed her so that she was lying down across the table and encouraged her legs to wrap around his waist. He then entered her.

She gripped the edge of the table tightly as he hammered into her. He had never taken her like this before – he had never been so... uncontrolled...

"I need you, Jean," he whispered, driving into her. "God, you are wonderful, amazing, perfect..."

"Gordon!" she cried out, the suddenness of her orgasm taking her by surprise. "Gordon, Gordon!"

He continued to pound within her – and the part of the mind that was not focussed on the woman on his kitchen table was wondering at his audacity – he could not believe he was taking her like this, taking her so forcefully, and not even in the bedroom but on his kitchen table. He couldn't help it – he wanted her so badly. Gordon had seen the way that Teddy Lloyd was looking at her today at the grocers – it was clear that Teddy was in love with her. But Jean was his – his – and he needed to make her know that.

And that kiss that she had given him... oh, that kiss! It had been so passionate, so full of love, that he couldn't help himself, couldn't hold himself back any longer. He needed her...

She began to come again, gasping his name, and he couldn't restrain himself anymore. Pushing into her one last time, he came, collapsing on top of her, resting his head against her bare chest. She stroked his hair lightly.

"Gordon, oh Gordon," she whispered. "Oh, my darling..."

He looked up at him. "I love you, Jean."

"I know you do, Gordon," she replied. "And I love you."

He stood up as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Taking her in his arms, he carried her up the stairs to his bedroom. She rested her head against his chest as he carried her upstairs, remembering a time when Teddy had carried her to his bed. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying again. They reached the bedroom and Gordon laid her down on the bed.

She smiled up at him while he knelt next to her, looking down at her with love, tracing her features with a tender finger. He cupped her cheek gently.

"I love you, Jean Brodie," he whispered, and she smiled – a sad smile. How she wished it was Teddy whispering his love to her! She pushed that thought out of her head. Gordon wasn't Teddy, and he'd never be Teddy.

"And I love you, Gordon Lowther," she replied, the tenderness of her tone belying the untruth in her words. He smiled down at her. "Come to bed," she whispered softly.

He nodded, slipping under the covers next to her. She wrapped her arms around him, snuggling up to him.

"We ought to get started on tomorrow's lunch," Gordon said, stroking her hair.

"We don't have to start right this minute, though, do we?" Jean asked, snuggling into his embrace.

"No, we don't," Gordon said.

"Mmm, good," she murmured, resting her head against his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair, closing his eyes as her golden locks slipped through his fingers. Eventually, however, he slipped out of bed. Jean sighed and climbed out of bed as well, beginning to get dressed.

Gordon was rather tiresome at times, she thought to herself. Why couldn't they just lie in bed a little longer, just enjoy being together? He was almost... stuffy at times, and utterly conventional. And she was choosing him over Teddy?

"Jean?" Gordon asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"Yes?" she replied, taking care not to let her exasperation with him creep into her voice.

"I would like it – that is, if you are agreeable – if you'd spend the Christmas holidays with me," he said, looking at her hopefully.

She felt her heart melt. Yes, this was why she chosen him over Teddy – he wanted her, loved her, cared about her. "Thank you, Gordon," she replied, smiling happily at him. "I'd love to."

"I am glad," Gordon said, cupping her cheek. She smiled at him and drew him into a soft, gentle kiss. "I love you, Jean; you know that, don't you?"

"I do," she said, smiling softly at him. Jean kissed him again and looked at him tenderly. "You are wonderful, Gordon."

He blushed. "As are you, Jean," he replied. "As are you."

"Let's start preparing for tomorrow's lunch, hmm?" she said, and he nodded. They finished walking down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Jean and Gordon prepared tomorrow's lunch, as the girls would be arriving just after they returned from church. It was still quite lovely out, so they would be having a picnic. They began to make the sandwiches, which were finished quite quickly. For dessert, they would be having an apple tart, made with the apples from Gordon's orchard. That took much longer, and Jean stayed in the kitchen to cook while Gordon went to the living room to practise for church tomorrow. Finally, the lunch was ready and Jean covered the apple tart, setting it aside. She then joined Gordon in the living room. She sat next to him on the piano bench, resting her head on his shoulder. He stopped playing for a moment, turning to kiss her forehead lightly, the turned back to the piano. He began playing a new melody, one that was quite unfamiliar.

"What's this song, Gordon?" Jean asked.

"Something I'm writing," Gordon replied.

"It's very good," Jean said. "Does it have words?"

"I'm not fully settled on them yet," Gordon said. "Though I have an idea of what it's going to be about."

"Oh, what is it about?" she asked curiously.

"You," he replied simply.

She blushed. "Thank you, Gordon," she said. "Can I hear what you have written so far?"

"All right – but bear in mind that it's nowhere near finished," he said.

"I'm sure it's good, Gordon," she said.

He smiled at her and began to sing.

"Jean, Jean, roses are red  
All the leaves have gone green  
And the clouds are so low  
You can touch them, and so  
Come out to the meadow, Jean

Jean, Jean, you're young and alive  
Come out of your half-dreamed dream  
And run, if you will, to the top of the hill  
Open your arms, bonnie Jean."

He stopped. "That's all I have so far," he said. "What do you think?"

"It's wonderful," she whispered. And it was. It was a beautiful melody with beautiful lyrics. No one had ever done something so... romantic for her before, not even Hugh. "Oh, Gordon, thank you." She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him passionately. And in that moment she loved him more than ever before.

"I love you, I love you so much," she whispered against his lips. "You are just so wonderful."

He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him.

"And you are absolutely perfect," he whispered, nuzzling her neck.

"Sing to me, Gordon," she said, her voice breathy. "Sing to me again."

"Jean, Jean, roses are red  
All the leaves have gone green  
And the clouds are so low  
You can touch them, and so  
Come out to the meadow, Jean

Jean, Jean, you're young and alive  
Come out of your half-dreamed dream  
And run, if you will, to the top of the hill  
Open your arms, bonnie Jean..." he trailed off as he picked her up, bringing her upstairs.

She moaned as he continued to kiss her, carrying her up the stairs to his bedroom.

When they finally reached his bedroom, she had already unfastened the hooks on her dress and had unbuttoned his shirt. He laid her on the bed so that he could remove his trousers. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching him.

A few moments later he joined her on the bed, laying an arm over her waist. She moved closer to him.

"Gordon, you're so wonderful, so romantic," she whispered, kissing him. "Absolutely marvellous..." she trailed off, kissing him passionately. He rolled her onto her back, continuing to kiss her.

"You bring out the romantic in me, Jean," he replied.

"Mmm," she half-sighed, half-moaned, as he continued to kiss her neck. "You're so wonderful, Gordon," she said again.

He entered her slowly, prolonging their passion.

"Mmm, yes, Gordon," she moaned. "Oh, yes..."

"Jean, Jean, Jean; my darling, darling, Jean," he groaned.

They came simultaneously, Jean moaning her pleasure. They had never been so connected before.

Gordon was stunned by the exquisiteness of their love-making. Jean was always wonderful, but that time especially. He had never felt such ecstasy before.

"I love you, Jean," he murmured, stroking her hair. She snuggled up to him.

"I love you too," Jean replied, stretching up to kiss him. "Will you sing to me again?"

"I've thought of a few more verses," Gordon said. "I'm not sure about them, though. You'll let me know, won't you?" he asked.

"Of course," she said.

"I'll start from the beginning, hmm?" he suggested, and she nodded.

"Jean, Jean, roses are red  
All the leaves have gone green  
And the clouds are so low  
You can touch them, and so  
Come out to the meadow, Jean.

Jean, Jean, you're young and alive  
Come out of your half-dreamed dream  
And run, if you will, to the top of the hill  
Open your arms, bonnie Jean.

Till the sheep in the valley come home my way  
Till the stars fall around me and find me alone  
When the sun comes a-singin', I'll still be waitin',

For Jean, Jean, roses are red  
And all of the leaves have gone green  
And the clouds are so low  
You can touch them, and so  
Come out to the meadow, Jean.

All the hills are ablaze with the morn's yellow haze  
Come into my arms, bonnie Jean."

"Mmm, that's perfect," she whispered, kissing him.

"Thank you, Jean – I had a wonderful Muse," he replied, smiling down at her.

She returned his smile, kissing his lips lightly.

"I love you," she whispered, and in that moment, there was no one else.

* * *

The next day they woke up early and got ready for church. Jean had had yet another disconcerting dream, this time featuring Teddy AND Gordon. At first the dream had excited her romantic side, but it had quickly turned horrible.

The dream began quite oddly, with Gordon and Teddy facing each other, swords in their hands. They were dressed in clothes from the Elizabethan age.

"What are you doing?" Jean asked them.

"Fighting for your hand, of course," Teddy said. "And I intend to win."

"No, I will," Gordon said, glaring at Teddy.

They began to fight, swords flashing in and out. Teddy's sword nicked Gordon's chest; Gordon's sword slashed Teddy's tunic.

Then, suddenly and simultaneously, they were on the ground, bleeding.

"Oh, my God!" Jean cried, looking at both of them. They were both looking at her, groaning her name.

She made up her mind and ran to Teddy, cradling his head in her lap.

"Oh, Teddy; Teddy, my love," she wept, tears cascading down her face. "Oh, my darling."

"Jean..." he said, his eyes closing.

"Yes, darling?" she asked, trying to staunch the blood flow. She looked down at him – his eyes were closed and he had stopped breathing. "Teddy? Teddy!" she cried out, burying her head against his chest.

She woke up, gasping, and turned to Gordon. He was lying on his stomach, sleeping, and she sighed in relief. Slipping out of bed, Jean went to the bathroom to take a quick shower. She emerged shortly afterwards and got dressed. Gordon had just gotten out of bed.

"Good morning, Gordon," she said, coming over to kiss him.

"Good morning, darling," he said, once they had broken out of their kiss.

"I'll start breakfast, dear, while you take a shower," she told him.

"Thank you, Jean," he said. She smiled at him and walked downstairs.

A few hours later, they had returned from church and had prepared for lunch. It was still lovely outside, so Jean had set up their picnic in the orchard. The girls arrived just after Jean had finished setting up for their lunch.

"Hello, dears," Jean said fondly. "We're going to have a picnic in the orchard," she said, leading them outside. Gordon was waiting for them.

The lunch went by far too quickly – the girls and Jean truly enjoyed themselves. Gordon, however, was a bit uncomfortable, though he was glad that Jean was enjoying herself. After they finished the lunch, Jean and the girls went for a walk on the beach while Gordon cleared up their lunch things.

Jean's girls had to leave after they returned from their walk, and Gordon drove them to the tram stop. Jean would be accompanying her girls back to their homes, and then would return to her flat so that her girls would not suspect their relationship. Gordon would be by later that evening to spend the night, and would bring her clothes with him. Meanwhile, Jean went to get some groceries.

For some reason known only to her subconscious, she found herself at the grocers in Teddy's neighbourhood. She was so tempted to go up to his studio and see the portrait of her, but she resisted. Instead, she went to the grocers and purchased her supplies. And, once again, she ran into Teddy.

"Hello, Jean," Teddy said.

"Hello, Mr. Lloyd," she replied stiffly, struggling with her parcels. He took them out of her arms. She glared at him.

"Please, Jean, let me walk you home," he said, and she relented.

They walked in silence for part of the way until Teddy broke it.

"You're sleeping with Lowther?" he asked her, looking wounded.

She looked straight ahead. "It's none of your business," she said.

"Why, Jean?" he asked her, injured.

"You shouldn't have to ask me that question, Mr. Lloyd," Jean replied coldly.

"Jean, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry for leaving you that morning."

"I'm sorry that you left me too, Mr. Lloyd," Jean said. They arrived at her flat. "Thank you for helping me; I can manage from here."

"Can't I come in?" he asked her. "Please, Jean. We need to talk."

"We have nothing to talk about, Mr. Lloyd," Jean said.

"Jean, you know that isn't true," Teddy said. "Please."

"No," she said firmly. "I have to begin dinner – Gordon is coming over this evening."

He looked as though someone had just shot him – and, in a sense, Jean had.

"Goodbye, Mr. Lloyd," Jean said, unlocking the door to her flat. She stepped inside and locked the door behind her. He stood in the corridor, staring at her door, and finally turned away.

Fifteen minutes later, Jean was seized with guilt and flung open the front door of her flat, intending to invite Teddy in. But he was gone.

She began to cry – he was always leaving her! She made her way back inside and collapsed on her bed, sobbing. He didn't love her – he didn't love her.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

* * *

Dialogue in this chapter is from the movie "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie".

* * *

After finally composing herself, she made her way to the telephone and called Gordon.

"Hello?" he said when he picked up the telephone.

"Hello, Gordon? It's Jean," she said.

"Jean! I was just getting ready to leave," he said.

"Gordon, I'm not feeling very well," she said, trailing off.

"Oh, my darling!" he exclaimed. "I'll be over as soon as I can."

"Gordon, I don't want to trouble you..."

"Jean, it's no trouble at all," he said. "I'll be there shortly."

"All right," she said, and hung up the telephone after they said their goodbyes. She sighed and made her way to the kitchen. She supposed that she should start dinner now. Turning to the oven, she made a quick meal of soup and toast. The doorbell rang, and she went to open the door. It was Gordon.

"Hello, darling," he said, bending to kiss her lightly on the cheek.

She smiled wanly up at him.

"Hello, Gordon," she replied. "Dinner's ready."

He smiled down at her and followed her into the kitchen.

Gordon ate quickly, unlike Jean, who simply nibbled at her toast.

"You really aren't well, are you?" Gordon said, stroking her cheek. She shook her head.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to," Jean said. "I don't want you to feel obligated..."

He interrupted her. "Oh, darling, it's all right. Why don't you go to bed and I'll clean up in here, hmm?" he suggested, and she nodded, standing up. She gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Thanks, love," she said. He stared after her, a silly smile on his face. She had called him 'love'.

Meanwhile, Jean was getting changed into her nightgown. She didn't know how she would tell Gordon that they shouldn't spend next weekend together – though she was taking precautions against getting pregnant, they should not take risks. Because if she did get pregnant, she'd have to marry him – and that was something that she didn't want. She finished getting changed and crawled between the covers. A few moments later, Gordon entered. Jean smiled up at him.

"I'll just get changed," Gordon said, gathering together his pyjamas.

"All right," Jean said. He went into the bathroom and emerged a few minutes later carrying his clothes. He set them on the chair of her vanity and climbed between the covers. Jean snuggled up to him.

"You'll spend next weekend with me, won't you, darling?" he asked, stroking her hair.

Jean sighed. "I wanted to talk to you about that," she said.

He looked down at her worriedly. "You don't want to?" he asked, his face falling.

"No, I do, but... well, I don't quite know how to say this," Jean said. And she didn't.

"What is it?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she reassured him. "What I'm trying to say is that, well, though I've taken precautions, I don't think that we should tempt fate and spend next weekend together."

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked, utterly confused.

Jean blushed slightly. Though she had repeatedly told her girls that anyone of a cultured home and heritage makes no fuss about the human body, she herself was slightly uncomfortable discussing the details of her menstrual cycle with her lover.

"What I meant was that while I've taken precautions so that I don't get pregnant," she began, continuing to blush, "Next week, well, it would be foolish for us to take an unnecessary risk and make love."

"I see," Gordon said, blushing. He was incredibly embarrassed.

"I'm sorry to embarrass you, Gordon, but you see why I can't spend next weekend with you," Jean said, resting her cheek against his chest.

"You could still spend the weekend with me, couldn't you, Jean?" he suggested. "We don't have to make love."

"I don't want to run that risk, Gordon," Jean said. It was time for her to lie, because she did need a break from him, but she could not have him thinking that she didn't want to be with him. She did, but she needed a break. "I'm so attracted to you, Gordon, and so in love with you... and it's so difficult for me to restrain myself. And if we're alone together next weekend, I don't know how I will be able to restrain myself."

"Jean, I didn't know that you felt like that," he said, stroking her hair.

"I do," she lied, kissing his chest lightly.

"Well, it will be difficult to go a weekend without you, darling, but I suppose that I can bear it," he said, nuzzling her neck. "Why don't you have your lunch with your girls at Cramond?" he suggested. "That way we'll at least be able to see each other."

"That sounds lovely," Jean said. "I'd best go to my church, though – we wouldn't want gossip to spread about us. I'll go to an early service and then prepare lunch here. My girls and I can ride the tram to your estate."

"And I'll pick you up from the tram stop. At what time, do you think?"

"Twelve thirty," Jean replied, yawning. "We'd best get to sleep – we have work tomorrow."

"All right. I love you, Jean," he said, kissing her lips lightly.

"And I love you, Gordon," she replied. "You'll come to our picnic tomorrow, won't you?" He nodded. "I can't wait," she said. "Good night."

"Good night, darling," he replied. They fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

The next morning, once again, Jean woke up before Gordon and stepped into the shower. He was still asleep when she got out – he still had thirty minutes before the alarm clock went off. She made her way to the kitchen and began preparing their picnic lunch. She had finished the lunch and had begun making breakfast by the time Gordon woke up. When he exited the shower, breakfast was ready, and they ate quietly before leaving for work.

The day passed quickly, and Jean was able to avoid Teddy. Once again, she and her girls had their picnic lunch with Gordon, and once again she and Gordon left early, ostensibly to have a cup of tea in the common room, but really to slip back to his classroom to kiss. They used his classroom, as it did not have a window in the door, allowing anyone to peer in. They stood in the corner of the room, away from the windows, kissing. Gordon was very passionate today, tangling his fingers in her hair. The warning bell rang, signalling five minutes before classes were to begin, and Gordon and Jean broke apart. Jean tidied her hair and gave Gordon one last kiss, leaving him to return to her classroom.

Teddy was leaning against the door to her classroom; she brushed past him, ignoring him. He followed her into the classroom.

"Jean," he said, approaching her. She turned to him.

"Yes, Mr. Lloyd?" she asked. "May I help you?"

"Jean, you must come back to the studio," he said.

The bell rang.

"I have no time to discuss such things with you now, Mr. Lloyd," Jean said. "I have a class to teach."

He sighed. "I'll be back at the end of the day, Jean – we do need to discuss this."

She gave him a curt nod, planning to be gone long before he stopped by her classroom at the end of the day.

And she was. She let her class out fifteen minutes early and fled Marcia Blaine, returning to her flat when her class should be ending. She was incredibly grateful that she had managed to avoid Teddy as long as she had. Jean could only hope that this... respite would last, but she suspected that it would not.

The weeks passed quietly, Teddy making no further advances towards her, much to her surprise and regret. Though she did not like their frequent confrontations, it proved that he cared about her. But it had been over two months since the last time he tried to get her to the studio. So Jean tried to immerse herself in Gordon, spending most weekends with him at his estate. And she and her girls had all their Sunday lunches at Cramond. On the second Friday in December, the day their Christmas break began, Jean took her girls to the gallery to see the works of Gauguin, telling them about his life in Tahiti, where he had moved to escape the confines of European society. And after their trip to the gallery, she brought them through the Old Town.

"Observe, little girls, the castle," she said, pointing at Holyroodhouse. "It is built on a rock of volcanic plug. It was through one of yon windows that Mary, Queen of Scots lowered her infant son straight down 187 feet in a basket on a high wind." She paused as they walked down the steps. "Mary McGregor, will you please do up your shoelace?" she asked, and the girl nodded, sitting down to tie up her shoe. Jean minced her way through the rubbish strewn across the steps. "Oh, observe the litter. In Italy, Mussolini has put an end to litter in the streets. Do any of you little girls remember what the followers of Mussolini are called?" she asked.

"Fascisti," Jenny piped up. Jean placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled down at her.

"That is correct. F-A-S-C-I-S-T-I. Fascisti. And Mussolini is called?"

"Dukee," Sandy chimed in.

"Il Duce," Jean corrected her. "That is to say, the leader. Il Duce." Mary stood up from the steps, her shoes tied. "We move on!" They began to walk. "Straighten your shoulders, Mary McGregor!" she exclaimed. "All you girls must learn to walk with your heads up, up; like Sybil Thorndike, a woman of noble mien."

They continued their walk through the Grassmarket, through to the cemetery of the Kirk of the Greyfriars. Jean once more began instructing her girls on the history of Edinburgh.

"In the Kirk of the Greyfriars on the twentieth day of February, 1693, the people of Scotland pledged themselves to the Presbyterian faith. Many of them used their own blood to sign the covenant."

"Eurgh!" her girls exclaimed.

"This part of Edinburgh is very rich in history," Jean said. She had realized that they were now near Teddy's studio. "It is very romantic," she said, looking up at the window of his studio. She pulled her gaze away from his studio window and turned back to her girls. Little did she know that Teddy had spotted them, had set down his paints and had rushed out of the studio, grabbing his jacket on the way. They began to walk again. "So you see, little girls, you must always remember you are citizens of Edinburgh, city of Hume and Boswell. You are Europeans, not dowdy provincials." She turned to look at Sandy, who was walking with her nose stuck high up in the air. Jean stopped her. "Sandy, what on earth are you doing?" she asked.

"Walking like Sybil Thorndike, Miss Brodie," she said.

Jean shook her finger at Sandy. "You know, one day, Sandy, one day you will go too far."

Mr. Lloyd finally caught up with them. "Hello," he said, a bit out of breath.

Jean turned to him, smiling despite herself. "Oh, Mr. Lloyd!" She turned back to her girls. "Girls, you know Mr. Lloyd, the art master from the senior school?"

"Yes. Good afternoon, Mr. Lloyd," her girls said politely.

"Good afternoon, girls," he said, nodding at them dismissively. All his attention was for Jean Brodie.

"Mr. Lloyd has his studio somewhere in this neighbourhood, I believe," Jean said, though she knew perfectly well that he did. He looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Number six, fourth floor, front. Door's always open," he said. She ignored that last statement.

"I've been giving my girls an outing. We've been to the gallery. I've been telling them the story of Gauguin," she said, beginning to walk again. He walked by her side.

"Ah, the dangerous Miss Brodie," he said, smiling at her.

"By whom, pray, am I considered to be dangerous?" she asked, adjusting her hat, smiling coyly.

"It is the consensus. Your girls are said to be vastly informed in subjects irrelevant to the accepted curriculum. Most heinous of all, you are said to inculcate no team spirit." He turned to the girls. "Is that true, girls?" he asked. "Does Miss Brodie incite you to shirk your duties on the hockey field?"

The girls giggled.

Jean dismissed her girls' giggles with a wave of her hand. "Phrases like the "team spirit" are always employed to cut across individualism," she said. She ducked underneath a low-hanging branch. "Cleopatra knew nothing of the team spirit, if you read your Shakespeare. And where would the team spirit have got Anna Pavlova? She is the prima ballerina. It is the corps de ballet that had the team spirit," she said, pausing, looking up at him. He stepped closer to her, and their faces were only inches apart.

"Oh, Miss Brodie, you are dangerous," he said, smiling down at her. And, for a moment, she smiled up at him, letting herself bask in her love for him. But she soon composed herself again, pulled herself back into her shell.

"Mm-hmm. Yes," she said, stepping away from him. "We must away and catch our tram. I doubt we will get seats," she confided in him. "It is 1932, and chivalry is dead." She and her girls began to walk away from him.

"Miss Brodie?" he called after her, and she turned. "I do want you to come and see the picture, the one I told you about. What about next weekend?" he asked.

"No, I'm afraid I'm going…"

He interrupted her. "Going to Cramond?"

"Why, yes," she said, smiling slightly. "My girls and I spend nearly every weekend at Cramond. Mr. Lowther," she said, laying emphasis on his name, "is most hospitable. Good afternoon, Mr. Lloyd," she said, turning away from him. "Come along, girls," she said, herding them down the path away from Mr. Lloyd. He watched them go. Jean turned back at him when they reached the corner, and she held his gaze for a few moments before turning away. Sandy was watching them too, noting everything. Jean turned away from him when the tram arrived, but he stood there, watching as the tram carried her away from him.

Gordon arrived at her flat later that evening to pick her up for the weekend. She was still slightly dazed from seeing Teddy again, and that was obvious to Gordon when he arrived.

"Are you all right, darling?" he asked her when she opened the door to him, not speaking at all. She shook her head slightly.

"Let's go to Cramond, Gordon," she said. "Please, darling. I just want to be alone with you."

"All right, Jean," he said, picking up her suitcase. She went to the closet to get her coat, then turned back to him. She locked the door of her flat behind them – she would not be back for a month. They walked quietly down the steps of her building and entered his car.

Gordon began to drive, holding Jean's hand as they drove through Edinburgh to Cramond. When they arrived at Cramond, Gordon brought Jean's suitcase upstairs.

"Don't go into the living room yet," Gordon told her.

"All right," she agreed, perplexed as to why she could not enter the living room. He returned from depositing her suitcase in his bedroom.

"All right; close your eyes," he said. She smiled at her lover and obliged him, closing her eyes. He took her hand and led her into the living room. "Just a moment," he said, and she heard him moving about. "All right."

She opened her eyes and gasped. He had decorated for Christmas, setting up the Christmas tree, which was adorned with many candles and sparkling crystal ornaments. The fireplace was hung with garlands of greenery, as well as two stockings. There were already presents under the tree. She turned to him.

"Oh, Gordon, it's beautiful," she whispered, flinging her arms around his neck. He bent down to kiss her.

"I hoped that you'd like it," he said, and she nodded.

"I love it, Gordon," she said sincerely. "You know what we ought to do?" she asked. He shook his head. "Take a picture of the two of us in front of the tree."

"That's a wonderful idea," he said. "I'll get my camera."

She smiled at him as he left to fetch his camera from his study. When he returned, he set the automatic timer, and he and Jean posed in front of the tree, smiling.

After they had taken the picture, Jean went upstairs to unpack while Gordon began dinner. She came down a half an hour later, carrying a pile of presents. She placed the presents under the tree and joined Gordon in the kitchen. He was just finishing up with dinner, and she smiled at him.

"Ready for dinner, Jean?" he asked, and she nodded, helping him to carry the dinner into the dining room.

Gordon served her first – he always did – and then served himself. They settled into quiet conversation.

"Did you unpack everything?" Gordon asked her, and she nodded.

"I put your Christmas presents under the tree," she said, smiling softly.

"Speaking of presents, Jean," he said. "I have one for you tonight."

"Oh, Gordon," she said. "You don't have to get me presents, really."

"I want to, Jean," he said, taking her hand. She graced him with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Gordon," she said, leaning across the table to give him a kiss. They finished their dinner shortly afterwards and went to the kitchen to wash up – Gordon washing the dishes while Jean dried them.

Once they were finished with the dishes, he wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and began to kiss her. She pulled out of the kiss.

"Let's go upstairs, Gordon," she whispered, taking his hand. He nodded, allowing her to lead up him the stairs to his bedroom. Once they reached his room, she dropped his hand and turned to him, disappointed when he made his way to his nightstand and began rummaging around in it. He turned to her, a small wrapped package in his hand.

"This is for you, Jean," he said, presenting it to her. She smiled at him, taking the present, and sat on the bed to unwrap it. It was a beautiful golden brooch in the shape of a thistle.

"Oh, Gordon," she breathed, running her fingertips along the brooch. "It's beautiful." She looked up at him. "Thank you."

"I'm glad that you like it, Jean," he said. "I saw it several weeks ago and thought of you."

She set the brooch and the wrapping paper down on the nightstand and began to kiss him.

It had been nearly two weeks since they had made love, and he had needed her so dreadfully. He quickly undressed her, then himself, and they tumbled onto the bed. Gordon was kissing her with a desperate passion, and she twined her arms around him, holding him closer. They continued to kiss, and Gordon rolled her onto her back.

"I love you, Jean," he whispered. She stroked his hair tenderly.

"I love you, Gordon," she replied, her voice equally as soft as his. Once he was reassured of her love, he began kissing her again, entering her. She gasped, then moaned, as he thrust within her.

Afterwards, she lay wrapped in his arms.

"I'm so happy that we'll be spending Christmas together," Gordon said. "I'm so glad that you accepted my invitation."

"As am I," she replied, snuggling up to him.

He smiled down at her. "You are so beautiful, Jean," he whispered and she looked up at him.

"Thank you, Gordon," she said, stretching up to capture his lips in a kiss. Their kiss was languid, sensual, and she relished the feeling of his lips against hers. It was a wonderful thing to have a man be so in love with you, she thought. They broke out of the kiss and Gordon smiled down at her.

"I love you," he whispered. Her smile was a shade too triumphant to be loving, but he was blinded by its beauty anyway.

"And I love you," she replied, lying as usual. Once more ensconcing herself in his embrace, she allowed herself to drift off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

* * *

Dedicated to kissofdeath, KristaMarie, micha, and tabbyhearts.

The poems used in this chapter are "The Ragged Wood" by William Butler Yeats, "Sonnet 43 – How do I love thee? Let me count the ways" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and "Longing" by Matthew Arnold, respectively.

* * *

Gordon woke up first the next morning and looked down at his sleeping lover. She was sprawled on her stomach, smiling. She moaned in her sleep and turned over, seeking out his warmth though she was still asleep. He obliged, wrapping his arms around her. She continued to smile, murmuring softly in her sleep. He couldn't hear what she was saying.

She was, in fact, dreaming of Teddy, dreaming that he was the one wrapping his arms around her. She began to wake up slowly, blinking her eyes as she looked up at her lover. She was disappointed that she wasn't in bed with Teddy, but she took care to not let her disappointment appear in her expression.

He was looking down at her tenderly. "Good morning, my love," he whispered. She smiled up at him.

"Good morning, Gordon," she replied.

He stroked her cheek tenderly and leaned down to kiss her. She deepened the kiss, her lips moving sensuously against his. He moaned, running his hands along her sides. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he entered her.

"Oh, yes," she moaned. He groaned as he moved within her.

"Jean, Jean," he groaned. "Oh, my darling..."

She gasped as she began to come, her nails digging into his back. "I love you, I love you," she moaned, closing her eyes as she imagined that Teddy was making love to her instead of Gordon.

"Oh, darling," he groaned. "Yes, darling, yes!"

He came and collapsed on top of Jean. She held him tightly to her, wrapping her arms around him. He rolled over and cradled her against his chest. Jean rested her head against his chest. She was somewhat tired of sleeping with Gordon – though she loved sex, she far preferred the occasional orgy than a nightly routine. She thought that his desires would have abated somewhat over the past four months, but it had not – if anything, he desired her all the more. While that did make him more – inventive – she was tired of sleeping with him every day, sometimes three or four times a day. It was best for her in the mornings, just after waking up. He was so tender, so gentle with her – she could tell that he truly loved her. But she did love it when he took her hard, too.

But it was when she was lying in his arms, after making love, that she enjoyed the most. She loved feeling safe, protected, loved in his arms. It made her so happy and almost allowed her to forget about Teddy. She could stay in his arms for years. But Gordon never liked to stay in bed and hold her for long. Even now, she could feel him getting restless, so she rolled out of bed. Gordon sighed in relief.

Though he loved her, he was uncomfortable with holding her in his arms for so long. He didn't know why, but he was. He supposed it was because holding her in his arms after they had made love was far more intimate than when they did make love. He didn't feel that he deserved to have her in his life, let alone in his bed, in his arms.

She turned to him after they had both gotten dressed. "I'll go down and start making breakfast, hmm?" she said, and he nodded.

"I'll be down shortly," he said, and she smiled.

"All right," she replied, and walked downstairs.

He finished getting dressed and went downstairs to join his lover.

Later that evening, Jean was sitting in front of the fire, relaxing, while Gordon played the piano for her.

She smiled as he sang to her; he had a lovely, rich tenor voice. Jean closed her eyes and let the waves of music wash over her. Gordon continued to sing to her. She let herself drift off to sleep, the sound of his voice weaving a tapestry of pleasant dreams.

He saw that she was asleep and stopped playing. He walked over to her and picked her up. She opened her eyes sleepily and looked up at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, smiling sleepily up at him. Jean was so beautiful to him in that moment. She rested her head on his shoulder and looked up at him adoringly.

"I love you, Gordon," she whispered softly.

He beamed down at her – he would never get tired of her voice, especially when she said how much she loved him.

"I love you too," he replied, leaning down to kiss her. She returned the kiss softly, her lips caressing his. They broke out of the kiss and Gordon continued to carry her up the stairs to his bedroom. Once they arrived, Gordon laid her down on the bed. She shimmied out of her dress and let it fall to the floor, then slipped beneath the covers, falling asleep almost immediately. Gordon finished getting changed into his pyjamas and came over to pick up her dress. He hung it up in the closet and then joined Jean in bed.

"I love you," he whispered, and wrapped his arms around her. He drifted off to sleep.

The days passed slowly, Gordon and Jean spending nearly every minute together. But the more time they spent together, the more Jean longed for Teddy. Gordon was wonderful, and she loved him, but she wanted Teddy so much, loved him so much. But Gordon... well, Gordon was the best that she could do, as much as she hated to admit it. Teddy didn't want her, and Gordon did. She would have to reconcile herself to that fact.

Christmas Eve arrived, and Jean and Gordon attended the midnight service at Cramond Kirk.

"Do you want to open presents now or later?" he asked her when they arrived home.

"Mmm, now," she said, taking his arm. They walked into the living room and settled themselves in front of the Christmas tree.

"Stockings first, hmm?" he suggested, and she nodded. He stood up to fetch them, and rejoined her in front of the fire. She curled up next to him. "You first, darling," he said, kissing her temple. She smiled up at him and opened her stocking. Jean pulled out a lovely Hermès silk scarf.

"Oh, Gordon, it's lovely," she said, holding the scarf to her cheek, closing her eyes as she rubbed the silk against her skin. It was so soft and so lovely. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Thank you, darling," she said, leaning over to give him a kiss.

"There's more, Jean," he said, smiling as her face lit up. She pulled out another package from the stocking and opened it, revealing a pair of soft, supple brown suede gloves. She smiled up at him. "Thank you," she said. There was one final present in her stocking, an exquisitely embroidered handkerchief. Jean neatly set aside her presents and handed Gordon his stocking.

He took out his first present from Jean, which was a pair of gold cufflinks, engraved with his initials. Next was a thick woollen scarf that Jean had knit for him, and the last present in his stocking was a matching pair of gloves.

"I knit the scarf and gloves for you myself," Jean said.

He smiled softly at her, leaning over to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss. Finally they broke the kiss and he smiled down at her.

"Time for your next present, Jean darling," he said, picking up a brightly-wrapped present. He handed her the present. "Happy Christmas, sweetheart."

Jean carefully unwrapped the present, revealing a gorgeous sapphire necklace and a pair of matching earrings.

"Oh, Gordon," she whispered, absolutely awestruck. The sapphires were set in gold and they glinted in the light from the candles on the tree. She looked up at him. "They're beautiful."

"Only the best for you, Jean," he said.

This was why she was with Gordon, she thought. She leaned across to kiss him. "I love you."

"I love you, Jean," he replied, kissing her again. She pulled back before the kiss could get too heated.

"It's your turn, Gordon," she said, handing him a present. It was a beautifully engraved antique gold pocket watch.

"Oh, thank you Jean!" he exclaimed, leaning over to give her a light kiss. They broke apart shortly afterwards to finish opening their presents.

Gordon had showered Jean with gifts that Christmas. In addition to the lovely sapphire necklace and earrings, she received several new Chanel dresses, shoes, stockings, hats... an entire new wardrobe, well, except lingerie. She was overwhelmed with the amount of presents she had received from him.

Jean could not afford to buy Gordon nearly as many presents, but she privately vowed to love him as much as she could. And she was very glad that she had bought a new, very revealing, negligee for his enjoyment.

Once they had finished with their presents, she had stood up.

"I have another present for you, Gordon," she said, smiling at him. "Give me ten minutes, then come up to the bedroom." Jean gave him one last smile before walking up the stairs to her bedroom.

While Gordon waited impatiently downstairs, watching the time tick by on his new watch, Jean was upstairs, getting ready to make love to Gordon. She had slipped into the new negligee, discarding the rest of her undergarments, and then picked up the sprig of mistletoe she had hidden from him. With only a few moments to spare, she arranged herself on top of the sheets, leaning against the propped up pillows, still holding the sprig of mistletoe.

She heard him bounding up the stairs and he opened the door a few moments later. He stopped dead, an expression of awe on his face.

"Oh, Jean," he breathed, standing still, staring at her as though he was trying to burn the sight of her in his memory forever. "Oh, my darling." He began to approach her slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I never want to forget this moment, Jean. You are so beautiful."

"Why don't you get the camera?" she suggested. "That way you'll always have a picture of this time – this time when I love you and you love me."

He nodded and hurried downstairs to get the camera. When he returned, he quickly snapped the picture and abandoned the camera on the dresser. He joined her in bed.

"Jean, you are so beautiful," he breathed as he undressed himself. "Oh, I love you, I love you so much."

"And I love you, Gordon," she whispered, drawing him into a deep, sensual kiss. She felt his erection growing firmer against her thigh, gasping as he kissed her neck. Jean moaned and clutched at his back.

"I love you, oh, Jean, I love you," he groaned as he entered her, moving within her. "I love you."

"Gordon, Gordon, my love," she moaned. "You are so, so wonderful."

She began to come, gasping her pleasure as she clenched around him. He joined her, reaching heights of passion previously unsurpassed. Collapsing on top of her, he rolled so that he would not crush her.

"I love you, Gordon," she whispered, looking up at him lovingly.

"I love you, Jean," he replied. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, my love," she said. He captured her lips in one final kiss and they drifted off to sleep.

Jean woke up a few hours later and looked down at her sleeping lover. He was sleeping so peacefully, looking so adorable. She stroked his hair softly and smiled down at him. He loved her so much, and she loved him for that. Rolling out of bed, she slipped into her new dressing gown and padded softly downstairs to make breakfast.

When she returned to his bedroom, Gordon was just waking up.

"Good morning, darling," she sang, setting the tray on his nightstand. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, love," he replied.

"I've made breakfast, Gordon," she said. "Your favourite – waffles, bacon, potatoes, and a fresh pot of tea."

"Oh, thank you, Jean," he said. "Won't you join me?"

"Of course," Jean said, crawling into bed beside him. He picked up the tray and they began to feed each other tenderly. She gazed up at him adoringly as they finished their breakfast. Gordon placed the tray on the nightstand and turned back to Jean.

"I suppose we should bring the presents upstairs," he said, and she nodded. Slipping into their dressing gowns, they went downstairs. Jean did the dishes while Gordon brought their presents upstairs. Once he was finished, he joined Jean in the living room. It was quite cold, so he brought down a thick woollen blanket from their bed to wrap around her. She insisted that he snuggle up with her beneath the blanket after he had built up the fire.

"Read to me," she said, and he nodded, standing up to get a book of poetry from the bookcase. He rejoined her on the couch and she wrapped the blanket around him once more, settling herself in his lap. She rested her head against his chest as he began to read to her.

"O hurry where by water among the trees  
The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh,  
When they have but looked upon their images -  
Would none had ever loved but you and I!

Or have you heard that sliding silver-shoed  
Pale silver-proud queen-woman of the sky,  
When the sun looked out of his golden hood? -  
O that none ever loved but you and I!

O hurry to the ragged wood, for there  
I will drive all those lovers out and cry -  
O my share of the world, O yellow hair!  
No one has ever loved but you and I."

"Another one, Gordon," she demanded, albeit with a smile. He obliged.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.  
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height  
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight  
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.  
I love thee to the level of everyday's  
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.  
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;  
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.  
I love thee with the passion put to use  
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.  
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose  
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,  
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,  
I shall but love thee better after death."

"One more," she said, kissing him lightly.

"All right," he said.

"Come to me in my dreams, and then  
By day I shall be well again!  
For so the night will more than pay  
The hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,  
A messenger from radiant climes,  
And smile on thy new world, and be  
As kind to others as to me!

Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,  
Come now, and let me dream it truth,  
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,  
And say, My love why sufferest thou?

Come to me in my dreams, and then  
By day I shall be well again!  
For so the night will more than pay  
The hopeless longing of the day."

"I love you, Gordon," she said.

"And I love you, Jean," he replied kissing her. She took his face in her hands and kissed him. Slipping further into his lap, she deepened the kiss. He pulled back from her a few moments later.

"Let's go upstairs, hmm?" he suggested, but she shook her head.

"Take me here, Gordon," she said, standing up. She spread the wool blanket in front of the fire and began to undress herself. Gordon looked torn for a moment but then began to undress too. She lay down on the blanket, absolutely naked, the firelight making her bright golden hair glow. He knelt down next to her, caressing her cheek. She pulled him down to kiss her, sighing with happiness as she felt his weight settle on top of her. He was so warm, so solid, so present, and she loved him with all her heart in that moment.

"Make love to me, Gordon," she told him, her voice breathy. He looked down into her eyes, which were dark blue from arousal, and nodded.

He entered her slowly, groaning as she rolled her hips against his. He loved her, loved her so much, and she was so wonderful. He couldn't imagine life without her.

"Gordon," she moaned, continuing to roll her hips against his. She pulled him down to kiss her as he continued to move within her. "I love you, I love you..."

"Jean, Jean!" he cried out, pushing into her once more. He rested on top of her and she wrapped her arms around him, wanting to feel the comforting presence of his weight.

"I love you, Gordon," she said softly, raking her fingers through his hair.

"And I love you, sweetheart," he replied, kissing her lips lightly.

She looked up at him fondly. "Will you love me forever?" she asked him.

"Forever and a day," he replied, kissing her nose.

"Good," she replied, smiling at him happily.

"Will you love me, Jean?" he asked her.

She nodded. "I will," she lied, and he beamed down at her. She felt a pang of guilt strike her heart as she saw how happy her response had made him, but she couldn't help it. She needed him, and she would continue to lie to him as long as was necessary. And she did love him... not nearly as much as he loved her, but she would try to love him more.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

* * *

Dedicated to kissofdeath, KristaMarie, micha, and tabbyhearts.

Parts of this chapter are inspired by Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and chapter 26 of the Severus/Minerva fanfic "This Old Heart", by MyMadness.

* * *

The rest of their Christmas break passed quietly. They stayed in for New Years, curling up in front of the fire. They made love just as the clock struck midnight – it had been Gordon's request, and Jean had agreed. As he kissed her neck, she vowed to try to give all her love to him. He loved her so much, and he deserved to hold her heart in return.

After Christmas break had ended, they returned once more to life at Marcia Blaine. Jean immersed herself in the lives of her girls. On Sundays, Jean and Gordon welcomed her girls to Cramond for lunch. And Teddy lurked in the background, always watching her interactions with Gordon, but not yet making a move to try to reclaim her. So Jean and Gordon went on as they were, Jean growing more grateful with each passing day that she had chosen to be with Gordon. Teddy didn't love her – well, if he did, he wasn't showing it – but Gordon did love her and he did show it.

Months passed, and Gordon's birthday came. His birthday was March twenty-sixth, a Saturday, and the day before Easter that year. Jean spent the weekend at Cramond. She had planned an elaborate birthday dinner for him also purchasing several presents for him, which included a few impersonal things – a tie, a silk handkerchief, a new pair of socks – and a few personal things – a first edition of Robert Burns' poetry, a new sheaf of sheet music, and a new negligee for his enjoyment.

She had made his favourite meal – roast beef, a garden salad, fettuccine Alfredo, and, for dessert, Charlotte russe. She loved cooking, and she enjoyed making Gordon happy. After their dinner, Jean and Gordon settled in the living room so that he could open his presents. He loved all of them.

"Stay here for a minute, Gordon," she said when he had finished opening all the presents. He nodded and she stood up from the sofa. She went to the bathroom to get changed into the new negligee she had bought for his enjoyment. It was a pale rose colour, scalloped lace on the hems. It was cut low, made out of clinging silk, and fell to her knees. There was a slit up the side that stopped about mid-thigh. She took a few more minutes to fix her hair and then exited the bathroom.

She entered the living room and Gordon stood straight up as she stepped closer to her. She spun around so that he could get the full effect.

"You look beautiful, Jean," he said, placing his hands on her waist.

"Thank you, Gordon," Jean said. She smiled coyly at him. "Would you like to go upstairs?"

"Oh, yes," he said. He took her hand and all but ran up the stairs. As soon as they reached his bedroom, he pushed her against the wall and lifted up the skirt of her negligee. She wasn't wearing any underwear, and he moaned as she began to undress her.

"I love you, Gordon," she whispered as he entered her. "Oh, yes! How I love you!"

He continued to thrust within her, moaning her name. "Jean, Jean, Jean!" he pushed into her once more. She clenched around him, throwing her head back as she came.

"Gordon," she cried out. They collapsed in a heap on the floor, limbs tangled together. He stretched out on the ground, bringing her with him.

"I love you, Jean," he said.

"I love you, Gordon," she replied. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you, love," he replied. She smiled up at him. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. She wriggled out of her negligee and slipped between the covers. Gordon joined her, wrapping his arms around her. She rested her head against his chest.

"This was the best birthday I've ever had," Gordon said.

"I'm glad, darling," she said, snuggling up closer to him. "I did hope that you'd enjoy it."

"I did," Gordon said. "But now I have a very high standard to attempt to surpass for your birthday. Luckily I have nearly three months to plan."

Jean smiled. "Gordon, darling, you don't have to," she said.

"But I want to," Gordon replied.

"Thank you," she said, stretching up to kiss him. "You are so wonderful."

He blushed, smiling down at her happily. "As are you, Jean," he replied. She curled up closer to him.

"I love you," she whispered again.

"And I love you," he replied.

The next weekend it was time to pick the apples in the orchard. Gordon was up in the ladder, picking the apples. Mary McGregor was sitting on the lawn watching them, while the other girls were exploring the beach – or so they thought. They were really exploring the house.

"Got it! There we are!" he said, handing the apple to Jean. She was wearing a very colourful frock today and holding a wicker basket, half full of apples.

"Oh, there's some nice ones up here," he said, climbing further up the ladder.

"Oh, no. Get one a wee bit further down," she said.

"I'm watching. It's all right," Gordon replied, humouring her. He reached the apple and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she said, smiling up at him.

While Jean accompanied her girls back to Edinburgh, Gordon set up a picnic for the two of them beneath the apple trees. They still had a few days more of their Easter holiday, so after Jean brought their girls to their homes, she returned to Cramond.

"Gordon?" she called, entering the house. He wasn't there, but she found a note on the hall table.

"Darling Jean, please join me for a picnic in the orchard," it read. She smiled happily and set the note down, hurrying out to the orchard. Gordon was waiting for her, a delicious-looking dinner set out on the blanket. There were lanterns hanging in the trees – it looked like something out of a fairytale.

"Oh, Gordon," she breathed, approaching him. He stood up and took her into his arms.

"Do you like it?" Gordon asked, looking down into her eyes.

"Oh, yes," she said.

He pulled her down onto the blanket and she snuggled up to him. They began to eat, talking and laughing quietly. It was still a bit chilly outside, though it was April, and Gordon wrapped a spare blanket around her. When they had finished dinner, Jean began to undress Gordon.

"What are you doing, Jean?" he asked her.

"Isn't it obvious?" she replied with a smile.

"Yes, but... here?" he asked.

"Why not? There's no one around for miles, Gordon," she said. "Don't you want to make love to me?"

"Oh, yes," he breathed as she finished undressing him. She began on her own clothes, letting them puddle around her feet. He pulled her down to the blanket and she began to kiss him passionately.

It was like a scene from "A Midsummer Night's Dream", he decided, like taking the fairy queen Titania in the enchanted wood. And she was as beautiful as he had imagined Titania would be.

"Oh, Jean," he moaned as she rolled her hips against his. "Oh, I love you."

"Gordon!" She came spectacularly, arching her back.

"Oh, my darling," he moaned as he climaxed, falling on top of her. He rolled over so that he would not crush her. Jean pulled the blanket up over them.

"That was wonderful, Gordon," she said, kissing his chest lightly.

"It was," he agreed. "You are wonderful, Jean."

"As are you, Gordon. You're so romantic," she said, smiling. "This was a wonderful idea – it was like something out of "A Midsummer Night's Dream".

"That was my intention, Jean," he said. "I've always imagined Titania would look like you."

She smiled at him lovingly. "Well, if I am Titania, then you must be Oberon, my lord and king," she said playfully.

"I'm only a mortal, my love," he said. "But you are a goddess."

She smiled at him, and in that moment, her heart belonged to him and him alone.

* * *

It was May before Teddy confronted her again. She was cleaning off the chalkboard one Friday afternoon when he entered her classroom.

She turned and looked at him briefly before turning back to the chalkboard.

"They flee from me who once did seek me out," he said. She turned around again, facing him.

She approached him, beginning to put away the books her girls had left on their desks.

"I miss you, Jean. Shall I beg you? Please, come back," he said.

She stopped picking up the books for a moment and faced him. "You have a family. I am a teacher," she said, turning back to her tidying.

"I had a family last June. You were a teacher last June," he said. "My God, I wish I had a pound note for every time I've heard you say 'I am a teacher, I am a teacher, first last and always,'" he said. She continued to ignore him, bending down to put the books in the small cupboard located in the back of her classroom.

"What a firm reminder your postcard was," he said. "A postcard from romantic Italy. 'The incomparable Giotto frescoes; how triumphantly his figures vibrate with life. Yours truly, J. Brodie.'" She straightened up, her back still to him. He continued. "A postcard from my passionate, abandoned inamorata." She turned to him, approaching him slowly, continuing to pick up after her students. "That night at the studio," he began. She stopped, looking into his eyes. "That one night at the studio…" She moved away from him, and he turned with her, whispering into her ear. "I was pleased to feel it was I who enjoyed the tutorial position. Come back, Jean," he whispered, and she turned to him. "I need you."

She had been waiting to hear that for so long, so, so long… she gave herself up to the moment, forgetting everything but the man in front of her. She leaned into his embrace, her lips meeting hers, and in that moment she was the happiest she had ever been. Oh, he was wonderful, perfect, marvellous…

She heard the door and opened her eyes, wondering who it was who had dared to intrude on her happiness. She closed her eyes when she realised it was only Mary McGregor, but then the magnitude of that realisation hit her. She pushed Teddy away and gasped.

"M-M-M..." Mary McGregor stuttered helplessly. Jean was filled with anger.

"Mary McGregor!" she approached her, furious. "Mary McGregor, do you know what happened to Peeping Tom?" The girl shook her head. "His eyes were shrivelled into darkness in his head and dropped before him!" The girl looked terrified and ran as though there were lions snapping at her heels. Jean closed the door before slumping against the wall. She looked at Teddy.

"Poor old Tom," Teddy said, looking amused. Jean covered her eyes with her hand. She couldn't believe what she had done – she had kissed the man who had left her that morning; had allowed herself to be taking in by his lies; had betrayed Gordon. Gordon – the man who loved her more than anything.

He approached her. "Don't worry, Jean. You've got your girls well-trained. You're safe enough from that quarter." He rested his arm against the wall, leaning in close to her. "It's me you've got to worry about." She looked up at him. "Come to the studio. Come to pose again. Only to pose," he said as she began to move away from him. She kept her back turned towards him as she replied.

"You should paint one of my girls. Jenny is the pretty one," she said.

"Hang your girls. It's you I want to paint," he said angrily.

"I will not come to the studio," she said, her voice shaking.

"Then to hell with you!" he said, exiting the room.

"Teddy, you know, you really should paint Jenny," she said in a half-dreamy voice. "You'd like Jenny. She has a profile of deceptive purity." She turned around – he was gone. Jean walked to her desk and collapsed, sobbing. Would he ever stay with her?

Jean finally composed herself and finished cleaning up her classroom. Gathering together her things, she exited the room and collected her bicycle. She pedalled back to her flat slowly, still a bit shaky from her confrontation with Teddy. As soon as she reached her flat, she drew a hot bath and immersed herself in the water. She was half-asleep when the doorbell rang; wrapping her dressing gown around her, she opened the door. It was Gordon.

"Oh, Gordon!" she exclaimed, mentally scolding herself. She had forgotten that she was supposed to go to Cramond this evening.

"Hello, Jean," he said, standing there awkwardly.

"Please come in, dear – I lost track of time," she said. "If you give me a few minutes, I'll get ready."

"I can come back, Jean," he said.

"Oh, no, don't do that. I won't be long. Please, make yourself at home," she said. He nodded, settling down on her sofa, while she went to her bathroom to drain the bathtub and get dressed. Fifteen minutes later, she was ready, and re-entered her living room.

"Ready?" he asked her, and she nodded. As he stood up, she stepped into his arms.

"I love you, Gordon," she whispered.

"And I love you, Jean," he replied, surprised at her effusiveness. She smiled up at him and took his arm, and they left at Cramond.

That weekend was a very exhausting one for both of them – Jean had been nearly insatiable. She had wanted to lose herself in Gordon, wanted to forget her love for Teddy. While she had not been able to do that, it had helped.

* * *

On Monday, Jean was telling her girls about Mussolini.

"Benito Mussolini is a great man. He began life as a journalist, a man of learning, an intellectual, but he is also a man of action. He has made Capri into a sanctuary for birds. A simple act of goodness." The door opened, admitting Miss Gaunt, Miss Mackay's secretary. Jean ignored her. "Now, if you all turn to page twenty five of your geography books, you'll find a map of Capri – it's off the coast of Naples. It is because of Il Duce that thousands of birds live and sing there today that might well have ended their careers on a piece of toast." Miss Gaunt was still standing in the back of the classroom. "Miss Gaunt," Jean began, an expression of disgust on her face, "Is there something you wanted?" The woman approached Jean and handed her a folded piece of paper. "Thank you," Jean said, and the woman scurried out of the classroom. Jean opened the note and read it to herself before reading it aloud to her class.

"'Dear Miss Brodie, I hope it will be convenient for you to see me in my office this afternoon at four fifteen. Emmaline Mackay.'" Jean looked up at her girls. "Four fifteen. Not four, not four thirty, but four fifteen. She thinks to intimidate me by the use of quarter hours," Jean scoffed, crumpling the note and disposing of it. "Now, as I was attempting to say, Benito Mussolini is indeed a man of action..."

It was four ten, and Jean glided through the halls of Marcia Blaine. Reaching Miss Mackay's office at ten seconds to four fifteen, she knocked.

"Come in," Miss Mackay said, and Jean opened the door just as the clock struck four fifteen. Jean looked at it approvingly.

"Four fifteen. I was afraid I might be late, or early," Jean said.

"Not at all," Miss Mackay replied, "You are most punctilious." She closed the door behind Jean. "Thank you for finding the time. I know how busy your girls keep you. Please sit down," Miss Mackay said, and Jean walked confidently to the chair directly in front of Miss Mackay's desk.

"Oh, thank you," Jean replied, sitting down.

"What a colourful frock," Miss Mackay said, a note of disapproval creeping into her voice.

"Colour enlivens the spirit, does it not?" Jean asked, resting her elbow on Miss Mackay's desk.

"Perhaps you're right," Miss Mackay said, sitting down in her own chair, "though I wonder if the spirits of the girls need enlivening."

"Oh, indeed they do!" Jean exclaimed. "My credo is 'Lift, enliven, stimulate!'"

"No doubt. But the Marcia Blaine School is essentially a conservative school. We do not encourage the, uh, progressive attitudes. Now, Miss Brodie, I have noticed a spirit of precocity among your girls – your special girls."

Jean interrupted her. "Why, thank you."

"Oh," Miss Mackay said.

"I am in my prime," Jean continued. "And my girls are benefiting from it. I'm proud to think that perhaps my girls are more... aware."

"Precisely. Now..." Miss Mackay was once more interrupted by Jean.

"To me, education is a leading out. The word education come from the root 'ex' meaning 'out', and 'duco', 'I lead'. To me, education is simply a... a leading out of what is already there."

"I had hoped there might also be a certain amount of putting in," Miss Mackay said.

Jean chuckled, shaking her head slightly. "That would not be education, but intrusion. From the root prefix 'in' meaning 'in', and the stem 'trudo', 'I thrust'. Ergo, to thrust a lot of information into a pupil's head."

They could hear students playing outside, so Miss Mackay rose to shut the window. "To discuss education with such a dedicated teacher is always instructive. However, it was not for that reason I asked you to come here. Miss Brodie," she paused for a moment, and Jean turned to her. "I am told that you make weekly expeditions to Cramond."

Jean looked at her, smiling smugly. "Yes. Isn't it a lovely spot?" she asked her, looking up at her with all of her feigned innocence.

"It is, indeed," Miss Mackay agreed, walking back to her desk. "I believe Mr. Lowther inherited

the estate from his mother. He's lived there all his life. Mr. Lowther is not a worldly man... not a reckless man. It is doubtful whether he would recognise recklessness in others. And recklessness is an indulgence that we at Marcia Blaine must eschew – not only within our walls, but in the personal life – the conduct, as it were, of the teaching staff."

Jean looked at her sadly, shaking her head. "Oh, Miss Mackay – I do not believe I have ever fully appreciated the taxing load of trivia with which a headmistress must concern herself."

"I must concern myself, Miss Brodie," Miss Mackay began sharply, "with this school's board of governors."

Jean chuckled. "I flatter myself that I am not unknown to the board, having been a member of the staff of Marcia Blaine six years prior to your engagement, Miss Mackay. I feel quite safe in saying that no member of the board has ever shown anything but appreciation and approval of my teaching methods. Oh! Oh, Miss Mackay," Jean laughed. "I use the woods of Cramond for lessons in botany; the rocks of the shore to investigate the mysteries of geology. It should be patently clear that my expeditions to Cramond are expeditions for enrichment. Enrichment for my girls... and for Marcia Blaine," Jean finished, silently celebrating in her victory over Miss Mackay.

"Well," Miss Mackay said, standing up. "Thank you, Miss Brodie. I feel sure you and I have come to understand each other better." She opened the door and Jean rose.

"I'm always at your command, Miss Mackay," Jean said.

"I am delighted to hear it," Miss Mackay replied. "Good day, Miss Brodie."

Jean was halfway out the door when she noticed the vase of flowers. She touched them lightly with her fingertips.

"Oh, chrysanthemums," she said, a note of repugnance creeping into her voice. "Such serviceable flowers. Mmm." She exited the office, nodding to Miss Gaunt as she left, still full of pride in her victory over Miss Mackay.

* * *

The school year came to a close without any more confrontations with Teddy, and Jean prepared to spend the summer with Gordon at Cramond. She would be returning to her flat a few times a month to pick up her mail, but other than that, she would be staying with Gordon the entire summer.

Gordon stopped by her flat the afternoon that school let out – it was a Monday, June twentieth, the day before Jean's birthday. She was ready to leave, dressed in a new, sleeveless blue dress. She was glowing with happiness – though she loved teaching, she was looking forward to the summer. She could not wait to let Gordon pamper her for three months – beginning with her birthday tomorrow.

Jean was woken up the next morning by Gordon singing softly to her. She opened her eyes with a smile.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, darling Jean; happy birthday to you!"

She sat up in bed, looping her arms around his neck, and pulled him down for a kiss.

"Happy birthday, Jean," he said once they had broken out of their kiss.

"Thank you, darling," she replied. She noticed the tray of breakfast sitting on the nightstand. "Oh, Gordon! Thank you!" she exclaimed.

"You're welcome, Jean," he replied. He settled the tray on her lap.

"Join me, Gordon," she said, and he nodded, climbing between the sheets. They finished breakfast and Gordon brought the dishes downstairs while Jean took a bath. Once she was finished she joined Gordon downstairs. There were several wrapped presents on the coffee table in the living room. Gordon was waiting for her.

"Ready for presents, darling?" he asked her. Jean nodded.

"Which one should I open first?" she asked. He handed her one of the smaller ones, and she opened it, revealing a beautiful sapphire brooch. It matched the earrings and necklace he had given her for Christmas. "I love it," she whispered, caressing the deep blue stones with gentle fingertips.

"I'm glad you like it, Jean," he said.

She smiled up at him, setting aside the brooch. He handed her the next present, a simple envelope. She looked at him curiously.

"Go on, open it," he urged her, and she did.

"Oh, Gordon!" she gasped in surprise and pleasure. Inside the envelope were two tickets on the R.M.S. Mauretania for July second.

"Is that all right?" Gordon asked her worriedly.

"Oh, yes!" she cried, throwing her arms around him. "Oh, my darling," she said, kissing him. "I love you, I love you."

He laughed as she covered his face with kisses. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap. Finally she pulled back from him.

"How long will we be staying in New York?" she asked him.

"We'll be there for a week," he replied. "We're staying at the Plaza Hotel."

"Gordon, really?" He nodded. "I love you," she said again.

"I love you," he replied. "Now, Jean, this afternoon I want you to go into town and go shopping."

"Why?" she asked him. "I want to spend my birthday with you."

"I have to prepare your birthday dinner," he said, smiling at her.

"All right," she sighed. "When do you want me to leave?"

"After lunch, please," he said. "Thank you."

She smiled at him. "All right," she agreed.

He drove Jean into town a few hours after lunch, making plans to pick her up in five hours. That would give him plenty of time to prepare for her birthday celebration. They had had a large, rich lunch – lasagne Verde, veal Marsala, a salad – so he was preparing a simple dinner – freshly baked bread and Brie cheese for dinner. For dessert, he had sliced up several apples from his orchard and sprinkled cinnamon and brown sugar on them. He had purchased a few bottles of Dom Pérignon.

After he had finished with dinner, he went out to the orchard to prepare for her birthday celebration. As they had both enjoyed their last excursion in the orchard the first week in May, he planned on repeating it. It took quite some time to hang the small lanterns in the trees, just as he had that one evening in May. But this time he brought several blankets and pillows outside, setting up a bed underneath one of the trees. Finally he had finished, just before he had to meet Jean in Edinburgh. He drove into town and picked her up – she was carrying a few shopping bags.

"Did you get some nice things?" he asked her.

She smiled at him. "Yes, I did – I got a few things for our trip to New York," she said.

He smiled at her. "Well, I have a surprise for you back at the house," he said.

"I can't wait," she said sincerely.

They arrived back at Cramond.

"Now Jean, I want you to cover your eyes," he said, handing her a silk scarf. She smiled at him excitedly and tied the scarf over her eyes. He took her hand and led her out to the orchard.

"All right," he said, untying her blindfold. She gasped, looking around, and turned to him.

"Gordon," she breathed, taking in the sight of this fairy-like wonderland. "It's beautiful."

He smiled down at her lovingly as she sank onto the blanket. He opened the picnic basket, taking out the two glasses and one of the bottles of champagne. Popping the cork, he filled their glasses and handed one glass to her.

"To my dearest, most darling Jean; happy birthday," he said, clinking his glass against hers. She beamed at him.

"Thank you, Gordon," she said, taking a sip of champagne. He set his glass aside and set out their picnic. He also pulled out a bouquet of red roses, handing them to her. She beamed.

They began to eat, and soon they finished. While Gordon went back to the house to get another bottle of champagne, Jean made a crown out of the bouquet of roses. She then undressed, setting her clothes aside, and set her newly-made crown of roses on her golden hair. When Gordon returned he nearly dropped the bottle of champagne. She was so beautiful – she hardly seemed mortal.

"Oh, Jean," he breathed, abandoning the bottle of champagne. He walked over to their makeshift bed and began to undress himself. She stood up and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him as she finished unbuttoning his shirt. He stepped out of his trousers and embraced her fully, his lips caressing hers.

"Gordon," she moaned softly when they pulled back from their kiss.

"Oh, my beautiful faerie queen," he whispered. She smiled at him.

"My handsome king," she replied, her voice equally as soft and tender. Her heart was overflowing with love for him in this moment. He lowered her down to their makeshift bed, continuing to kiss her, as the moon bathed the two lovers in her light, turning them silver.

He rolled her onto her back, trailing his lips down her collarbone to her breasts. He lingered there, placing gentle kisses on her satiny smooth skin.

"Gordon, Gordon," she whispered to him, pulling him up to capture his lips with hers. "I need you."

He nodded, looking down into eyes of deepest blue as he entered her. She arched her back, moaning underneath his touch.

"Jean, Jean," he moaned, moving with her. They were perfectly synchronised in their movements, movements which were slow, sensual. They began to come, still completely in tune with the other. When they both drifted back to earth, Gordon pulled the blanket over them, protecting them from the chill of the night. The crown of roses was still in Jean's hair as he caressed her cheek.

"I cannot believe that you are mortal, Jean," he whispered. "You are too beautiful. The Greek goddesses would be jealous if they could see you – they would envy you your beauty, which far surpasses even Aphrodite's."

"I am no goddess, Gordon," she replied, her voice as soft as his.

"Are you not? Well, if not a goddess, then at least the Queen of the Faeries," he said again. "Titania. Titania making love to poor Bottom in the enchanted forest..."

"Och, Gordon!" she exclaimed, her Scottish burr becoming more pronounced. "You are not poor Bottom. You are my lord and king, Oberon." Even though he was Bottom – Teddy was, and always would be her Oberon. But she pushed these thoughts out of her mind – she would end her birthday happily, not end it dwelling on what could not be.

He bent down to kiss her, effectively ending her protests. She melted in his arms once more.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing her again

"I love you too," she replied. She snuggled closer to him, the roses still adorning her hair, and fell asleep. He stayed awake, looking down at the faerie queen who slumbered softly in his arms.

"Oh, how I love you," he whispered. Finally unable to stay awake any longer, he joined her in sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

* * *

As always, dedicated to kissofdeath, KristaMarie, micha, and tabbyhearts.

Again, this chapter references "A Midsummer Night's Dream".

* * *

Gordon woke up first the next morning, just before the sun came up. The candles in the lanterns had burned down long ago, and he could barely see Jean in the dim light of dawn. But as the sun began to rise, it lit up her still-sleeping form. If possible, she looked even more beautiful than she had last night. The crown of roses she had worn was still surprisingly intact – not crushed or wilting at all. Her eyes were still closed, her chest rising and falling with each steady breath. As he watched her, she began to stir, opening her eyes. She spied him and smiled drowsily.

"Good morning," she whispered softly, her voice still husky from sleep. She reached out to take his hand and pulled him down with her. Stretching up, she captured his lips in a languid, sensual kiss.

He deepened the kiss and she let out a slight moaning sigh as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She could feel his arousal, and she was equally aroused. She had dreamt about their love-making last night – it had been absolutely marvellous. She had dreamed that she really was Titania, had dreamt that Gordon was Oberon, had dreamt that they had made love in the enchanted forest... and now it was the same as her dream, but with the morning light slowly dawning over them.

"Jean," he groaned as he entered her. She was so ready for him, and it took all his self-control not to thrust within her. Instead, he moved slowly, sensuously, as he had last night.

"Gordon," she half-gasped as he moved within her. "Oh, Gordon!" He lowered himself to kiss her; she wrapped her legs around his waist and let her head drop back against the pillows, her eyes closing.

He let out a long, breathless moan of her name as he climaxed; at the same time, she gasped his name. He let himself settle on top of her for a moment before rolling onto his back.

This time their lovemaking had crushed the flowers in her hair, ending the illusion of Jean as Titania. He stood up and stretched a hand down to her, which she took. She wrapped a blanket around her body and gathered up her clothes. Gordon chose to get dressed.

"I'll bring the picnic basket in," Gordon said as she bent down to pick it up. She straightened up and nodded.

"All right," she replied. "I'll be in the bath." She turned around once more as she exited the orchard – he was taking down the lanterns. She felt tears prick her eyes as she continued to walk to the house. The magic was gone.

* * *

The ten days before they left for America passed very quickly, each day a whirl of packing their suitcases and trunks, getting things ready for their six week long absence. They left for Liverpool two days before their departure to America. Jean and Gordon spent much of their day in Liverpool sleeping – they were both very tired from getting everything ready for their trip in so short a time.

They hadn't made love since her birthday – besides the fact that they were both busy preparing for their trip, Jean had resisted his subtle innuendos, feigning exhaustion. She hadn't wanted to make love to him since the morning after her birthday, and she had feared that the magic in their relationship had faded since that morning. Her birthday had been too good to be true – it had been like a fairy tale. Now that they had returned to their normal lives, she believed that they would never be as connected again.

Early in the morning of July second, Jean and Gordon boarded the R.M.S. Mauretania. They had a large first-class cabin on the second deck from the top. Their cabin included a washroom, a sizable sitting area, and a bedroom. Their bed here was very large compared to their bed at Cramond, and Jean could not wait to see if it was as comfortable as it looked.

"Jean, darling," he said as she began unpacking her things. "Um, I don't know how to say this, but..."

"What is it, Gordon?" she asked, turning away from her unpacking. She sat down on the bed next to him, taking his hand.

"I hope that you won't be angry with me, Jean, but I had to register us as husband and wife," he said, looking down at the bedspread. He was blushing slightly.

"It's all right, Gordon," she said, though a feeling of dread had settled in the pit of her stomach. She should have realised before they left that he would have to register them as husband and wife – people were not as open-minded as she was. Well, she would not let this ruin their trip. "We'll need rings," she stated matter-of-factly.

He blushed again and pulled two rings out of his pocket. "It was my mother's wedding ring," he said, handing it to her. She slipped it onto her finger – it was not the best fit, but it would do. He slipped on his ring.

"So, are we going to pretend that we're on our honeymoon?" Jean asked. If they were going to pretend to be married, they might as well get their story straight.

"All right," Gordon agreed. He raised his hand to her cheek. "I love you, Jean," he whispered, and she smiled at him, ignoring the feeling of trepidation that had settled around her much like the ring that was now on her finger.

"I love you, Gordon," she replied, and stood up to finish unpacking.

That was only the beginning of the unpleasant journey. Gordon, who had never been on a ship of this size before, was horribly seasick. While that at least prevented them from making love, Jean was forced to take care of him. She was somewhat disgusted – she couldn't help it – but she took great care not to let him know. Thankfully, he was only sick for a few days. Once he was fully recovered, though, meant that they once more resumed making love.

It lacked, as Jean had feared, the spark that had been present prior to their trip. It was still nice, and she enjoyed it, but it was no longer wonderful. It was as though they were simply going through the motions.

As the journey continued, Jean grew more and more tired of Gordon. Living in such close quarters with him, having to pretend that they were married, made her realise that she could never marry him, even if she had wanted to give up teaching. One night, only six days after they had left Liverpool, Gordon and Jean lay in bed together. Jean was incredibly grateful for the large bed, as she was not forced to lie in his arms. Currently she was sprawled on her stomach, reading "Pride and Prejudice". Gordon was looking up at the ceiling of their stateroom, thinking.

He didn't want them to simply pretend to be married – he wanted to be married to her. And he wanted to ask her, he did, but he wasn't sure she would accept. She loved her job, and he doubted that she would give it up to settle down with him as his bride.

Jean marked her place and set the book aside. "Good night, Gordon," she said. "I love you."

He smiled at her. "I love you, too," he replied.

She rested her head on her pillow and fell asleep immediately. Gordon stayed awake, watching her sleep. He had the peculiar feeling that she was no longer happy, though she did not act like it. But her eyes had become dull, she had been less enthusiastic about things recently – ever since her birthday, in fact. He didn't know what was troubling her.

She began to toss and turn in her sleep, murmuring agitatedly. A frown marred her features as she turned over on her stomach.

"Why do you keep leaving me?" she murmured, her voice growing louder with every word. "Don't do it, please don't do it, I love you, love you so much!" Jean cried, tears streaming down her face though she was still asleep.

"Jean, wake up!" he said, shaking her slightly. She woke up with a gasp and looked up at him.

"Gordon?" she asked, her voice shaky.

"Yes, it's me, darling," he said, stroking her cheek lightly. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, still crying, and turned away from him. He wrapped his arm around his waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"What's wrong, my darling?" he asked. She shook her head.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said.

"You were talking in your sleep," he pressed on. She turned to him, wide-eyed in her panic.

"What – what did I say?" she asked him.

"Something about not leaving you," he said. "I won't leave you, Jean, I promise."

She let out a sigh of relief, but not for that reason – she was relieved that he didn't know that she was dreaming of Teddy. He interpreted her sigh quite differently.

"I love you, Jean," he said.

"I know you do, Gordon," she replied, tears still in her eyes.

"What's wrong, my darling?" he asked her again. "You've been so withdrawn since your birthday."

"I'm fine, Gordon," she said. "Just... restless, I suppose."

"Well, we'll be in New York soon," he said.

"I know," she replied. "And I'm glad."

"You're not... growing bored of me, are you?" he asked tentatively.

"Och, Gordon!" she exclaimed, her accent growing broader in her frustration. "Of course not!" But he was boring her, though she would never let him know that – she had made her (or rather his) bed, and now she must lie in it (with him).

"We're too close, aren't we?" he asked, persisting with his line of questioning.

"No, of course not!" she said, denying the truth yet again.

"We are," he stated. "Jean I want you to take tomorrow for yourself – get a massage, go swimming, do whatever you'd like. I'll even stay out of the room in case you want to relax here. You're not enjoying this trip, and I want you to. Perhaps after we spend a day apart you'll be happier." She opened her mouth to protest but he laid a finger over her lips. "I won't take any arguments, Jean," he said.

"All right," she agreed, her tears drying. He ran his thumb over her lips softly, looking into her eyes.

"I love you so much, Jean," he whispered. "I want you to be happy."

She nodded, kissing his thumb lightly. "I love you." He wrapped his arms around her and she rested her head against his chest.

Gordon woke up first the next morning. He slipped out of bed and got dressed quietly, writing Jean a note.

My darling Jean,

I hope that you enjoy your day of solitude – though I will miss spending time with you, I think it's best for both of us to have a bit of breathing room. I thought that we'd meet in the dining room for dinner at eight o'clock.

I love you, Jean.

-Gordon.

He headed to the smoking room. Though he didn't tend to indulge, he would make an exception today – after all, he would be here until dinner. He settled down with a newspaper and ordered breakfast.

Jean woke up a few hours later and found the note on her bedside table. She smiled as she read it – she had nearly twelve hours all to herself. Deciding to have breakfast, then get a massage, she got dressed and went to the dining room. An hour later, after finishing breakfast, she went to get a massage.

On the massage table, she sighed with relief as the masseuse worked at the muscles in her back. She had been so stressed, so frustrated with Gordon, but she was feeling all of her discomfort melt away. It was wonderful.

After her massage, Jean went for a swim, the cold water further enhancing her rejuvenation process. She stayed in the pool for several hours, stopping back at her rooms to towel off before heading to lunch.

She ate heartily, having worked up a large appetite during her morning. Lunch was excellent, and once she finished, she decided to take a nap on the top deck, which she did. The fresh sea air and the bright sun, in addition to her massage, swim, and lunch, did wonders for her, and afterwards she took a walk around deck. She had two hours to get ready for dinner by the time she returned to their stateroom to take a bath. Jean was feeling so much better – Gordon had been right, they had needed time apart – and she had planned quite a special night for them. She had ordered a few bottles of champagne for later that night and had purchased silk roses, which she had woven into a crown, much like the one she had worn on her birthday. Jean had had much time to think over that night – and the next morning – during the previous hours, and had realised that the crushing of the flowers after they had made love that morning was symbolic of the destruction of the attraction she held for him. With a bit of luck wearing flowers in her hair again would bring back her desire for him. And as they could not die this time, hopefully her desire for him would not die either.

Jean stepped out of the bath and got dressed in one of the Chanel dresses Gordon had purchased for her for Christmas. The one that she chose was a long black silk dress which fit her perfectly. She also wore the sapphire earrings and sapphire necklace that he had also given her for Christmas.

She finished getting dressed and met her lover in the dining room.

"Hello, darling," she said, leaning across the table to give him a light kiss on his lips.

"Hello, love," he replied. "Did you have a nice day?"

"I did," she said, beaming at him. "And I have a surprise for you later this evening," she whispered, her eyes darkening. He smiled at her, resting his hand on her knee.

"How was your day?" she asked after they ordered their meal.

"It was fine," Gordon replied.

"Just fine?" she asked. "I hope that you didn't have too boring a day."

"It was all right – I missed you, though," he admitted. She reached across the table to hold his hand.

"I missed you too," she said.

They ate their meal slowly, savouring each other's presence. After dinner, Jean and Gordon left the dining room, hand in hand. Gordon unlocked the door, but Jean refused to let him enter the bedroom.

"I just want to get everything ready, Gordon," she said, stroking his chest lightly.

"All right," he agreed.

"You could undress, if you'd like," she said, smiling at him sultrily. He nodded, transfixed by her beauty. He watched as she walked into the bedroom. While he began undressing, Jean lit several candles in their bedroom, then undressed, carefully hanging up her dress. The last thing she did before re-entering their sitting room was to place the crown of silk roses on her hair.

She stepped out into the sitting room. Gordon was sitting on the sofa, only wearing his boxers. He stood up and approached her.

"I thought that we'd recreate my birthday night," Jean whispered, stretching up to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly to him.

"Anything you desire, my beautiful faerie queen," he whispered. She smiled at him, pleased at the fact that she was becoming aroused. Taking his hand, she led him into their bedroom.

"I love you, Gordon," Jean whispered, her lips caressing his as she pulled down his boxers. He moaned as she ran her hands over his chest.

"I love you, Jean," he replied. They continued to kiss, Gordon pushing her against the wall of their stateroom. She wrapped a leg around his hips and lowered herself onto him.

"Gordon, Gordon, Gordon," she moaned, smiling as she felt herself spiralling closer and closer to orgasm.

"Jean – Jean, my love," he cried out as he came. She climaxed a few moments later for the first time since her birthday over two weeks ago.

Later, as she lay in his arms, she smiled happily. The magic had returned.

The rest of their journey passed happily for both of them, due in part to Gordon's insistence that they spend at least three hours apart every day. He was absolutely terrified that she would grow bored of him, would leave him, and he knew that he could not let that happen. He loved her so much, loved her more than anyone or anything in the universe. And she had changed his world, made him question absolutely everything he had previously known. He loved her, needed her, desired her with every fibre of his being, and could not stand to be apart from her for even a few minutes. But he knew that while he would never grow tired of her, she would grow tired of him. She was so worldly, so sophisticated, and he was so simple. He did not have much to offer her but his love. He could only hope that that would be enough for her.

Jean was glad that Gordon insisted they spend at least three hours apart every day. That proved to be her saving grace on this trip – she needed time to herself, needed to be apart from him. At times he was almost unbearably boring, droning on interminably about the most ridiculous things. He was so terribly conventional, so ceaselessly conservative. She knew that he was uncomfortable with their relationship, knew that he wanted to marry her, but she also knew that as of now he was too afraid of her rejection to propose marriage to her. Jean would have to disabuse him of the notion of marriage soon, before he proposed to her, for she knew that once she rejected his proposal their relationship would inevitably come to an end. And she didn't want that – she needed a lover, and Gordon was by far the best choice. He loved her, wanted her, desired her; he was also wealthy, had an excellent singing voice, and was easily bent to her wishes. The only other option (besides Teddy, but she wouldn't think of him) was Richard Burrage, one of the members of the Board of Governors. He was often at the school, attempting to get her attention, and it was clear that he was infatuated with her. But Jean did not want to begin a relationship with him, for if he proposed and she rejected him, he would make sure that she lost her job at Marcia Blaine.

Yes, Jean would remain in this relationship with Gordon – it was not ideal (being in a relationship with Teddy would be ideal) – but it was as close as she would most likely ever get to a perfect relationship. And she vowed to be content with that.

They finally arrived in New York, and Jean had never been gladder to be on dry land. The city was amazing – the buildings were so tall, and Jean had never seen so many people in her life. They took a taxi cab from the dock to the Plaza Hotel – it was quite bizarre to be driving on the wrong side of the road, Jean thought, as they raced through the streets.

"Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Lowther," the bellhop said, and Jean winced at the sound of her alias. She would never be Mrs. Lowther, she wanted to scream, never, never, never! But she restrained herself – after all, a lady always remained composed, like the Mona Lisa – and took Gordon's arm. They were brought up to the twelfth floor and were told their bags would be sent up shortly. As the door closed behind them, he took her into his arms and kissed her. She pulled back, burying her face against his neck. He stepped back from her, lifting her chin so that he could look into her eyes.

"Are you all right, Jean?" he asked.

She nodded. "Just... overwhelmed," she lied. In reality, she hadn't wanted to kiss him.

He smiled down at her. "I am, too," he said. "Would you like to order room service and spend the rest of the day here?"

"I'd like to go see Central Park today," Jean said. "If you don't want to, though, I can go by myself." She crossed her fingers behind his back.

"I don't want you to go out by yourself, Jean," he said. "It's such an unfamiliar city."

"Gordon, I'm not a child," Jean snapped. "I've gone to unfamiliar cities before – by myself – and was fine."

Gordon looked stunned. "All right, Jean," he said, turning away from her. She felt incredibly guilty for her burst of bad temper. Walking up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek between his shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry, Gordon," she whispered. "I'm overtired, I expect, and hungry. But that was no reason to take it out on you."

He turned, looking down at her. "It's all right, Jean," he said.

She smiled softly up at him. "Why don't you order room service while I unpack our things?" she suggested. He nodded.

Two hours later, they had finished their lunch. Jean was taking a nap while Gordon was relaxing in their sitting room, thinking.

His suspicions that she was growing frustrated and bored with him had been confirmed by the way she had snapped at him. He felt so guilty – he had never meant to demean her. He was just worried that she would get hurt in such a large, unfamiliar city. But she was so much worldlier than he, and he knew that he should not have tried to stop her. Jean was so independent, and obviously didn't want to be taken care of – by him or by anyone.

The woman of his thoughts entered the room, wearing nothing but the pale rose coloured negligee she had bought for his birthday.

"Did you have a nice nap, darling?" he asked as she sat down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"It was all right," she replied.

"Are you ready to go to Central Park?" he asked, and she nodded happily.

"I'll just go and get changed."

They went to the park and Gordon insisted they take a horse and carriage ride around the park, which, surprisingly, Jean enjoyed. After their carriage ride, they walked around the park before getting a taxi to bring them back to their hotel.

They ate downstairs in the hotel restaurant, after which they retired to their room. Jean drew a bath for the two of them. As they relaxed in the hot water, Jean cradled in his arms, she brought up a topic they should have discussed long ago.

"Gordon," she began, "I love you, but I don't think that we should get married or even engaged yet."

"Why not?" he asked her, hurt.

"I love teaching, Gordon – after all, I am a teacher, first, last, and always – and I don't want to give that up yet."

"Don't you love me, then, Jean?" he asked.

She turned in his arms. "Och, Gordon!" she exclaimed. "I do love you, but I also love teaching. If I was to marry you now, I would always resent you because I would have to give up teaching to be your wife. Can't we just continue as we are?" she asked. "This way, I can teach and be with you. Please, darling," she said.

He nodded, and while he still did not want to accept her decision, he had never been able to refuse her anything. She smiled and gave him a light kiss on his lips.

"Good," she said, turning back around. They got out of the bathtub a few minutes later and dressed in their nightclothes.

Gordon didn't talk to her for the rest of the night – he was upset that she had rejected him before he had even proposed. After their bath, he took a blanket and some pillows and went into the sitting room to sleep.

Jean hadn't known that he would take the news this badly – and she knew that if she didn't do something, he would never get over this. So when she was sure that he was asleep, she crept into the living room. He was sprawled out on the couch, sleeping restlessly – and tears stained his cheeks. Jean felt her heart turn over as she looked at him. Making up her mind, she carefully lifted the blanket that was covering him and slipped into his arms. Almost automatically, he wrapped his arms around her, and she smiled slightly. He did love her – that much was certain. Feeling incredibly sleepy, Jean snuggled into his arms and rested her head against his chest, falling asleep.

Gordon was dreaming of Jean. It was a summer day and they were sitting on the verandah at Cramond. She was snuggled in his arms, her head resting against his chest. He gently stroked her hair, lovingly running his fingers through her golden locks. And his other hand rested tenderly on her protruding stomach. She laid her left hand over his, her diamond engagement ring and gold wedding band glinting in the morning light. They stayed there, enjoying each other's company. He could feel their baby kicking, and he rubbed her stomach. He loved her, loved her so much...

Jean dreamt that she was in darkness, simply floating in midair, suspended, as it were, in nothingness. There was nothing there, no bad memories or regrets. She was at peace for the first time in a long time.

Gordon woke up first, looking down in surprise at Jean, who was still asleep. He tried to extricate himself from her embrace, but he caused her to wake up.

"Good morning, Gordon," she whispered softly. He ignored her. "Gordon, darling," she begged him. "Please speak to me."

"What is there to say, Jean?" he asked, turning to her. "You won't marry me."

"Gordon," she said, reaching out to stroke his cheek. He pulled back. "Gordon, I do love you."

"Do you, Jean?"

"I do, Gordon," she said, stroking his cheek. "I love you so much."

"Then won't you at least accept a promise ring from me?" he begged her.

"All right," she said, sighing inwardly. She knew that if she didn't accept his ring then he would end their relationship, no matter how much he loved her. He beamed at her.

"Really?" he asked, and she nodded, forcing herself to smile at him. "Oh, Jean, I love you."

"I love you, Gordon," she said, though she had the sickening taste of despair in her mouth.

"We can go to Tiffany's after breakfast to buy your ring," he said excitedly.

"Gordon, I don't want a big diamond," she said.

"Why not, Jean?" he asked.

"Well, I don't think that we should make our relationship public just yet," she explained.

"All right," he sighed. She leaned forward to bury her face against his chest. "I love you, Jean," he said.

"I love you, Gordon," she lied.

After breakfast they took a cab to Tiffany's to purchase her ring. Gordon so wanted to buy her a large diamond ring, but she refused him, wanting a plain gold band. They eventually compromised, choosing a gold ring set with pearls and two small diamonds. She slipped it onto the ring finger of her right hand, a feeling of despair settling around her just as the ring settled on her finger.

He held her hand as they exited the store. He hailed a cab to take them back to the hotel.

"I'm going to take a nap," he said.

"All right," she said. "I'm going to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art."

He bit back his request that she wait for him – he did not want to anger her now, especially as she had just accepted his ring.

"Enjoy yourself," he said instead, and she smiled at him.

"Thank you." She gave him a light kiss before gathering her purse.

Jean was so relieved to be away from Gordon, and especially grateful to be at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She had been to many of the great museums of the world, and this was one of the last ones on her list. It was wonderful, containing many of the greatest paintings and sculptures in the world. Jean lingered in the museum for hours, taking in all that she could of the marvellous works of art that were present. Finally, as the sun began to set, she hailed a taxi and returned to the hotel.

Gordon was awake, looking through the newspaper, trying to keep his mind off Jean's absence. He was incredibly worried about her – she had been gone for over five hours now. He knew that she could take care of herself, but he could not help worrying about her.

He heard the key turn in the lock, and he forced himself to remain calm. Jean entered and he looked up.

"Did you have a nice time?" Gordon asked her, setting his newspaper aside.

She stepped into the bedroom. "Yes, I did," she called over her shoulder. "I'm very tired, though. Can we order room service tonight, please?"

"Of course," he replied.

"I'm going to take a bath before dinner," she said, and he heard her turn on the water in the bathroom. He turned back to his newspaper, content that she was back with him.

As soon as her bath was ready, she undressed and slipped into the tub. Floating in the water, she let her mind wander.

She missed the days at the beginning of their relationship, when he was too afraid that she would leave him to do anything she did not want him to do. Jean was tired of pleasing Gordon, tired of trying to make herself love him. She would never love Gordon as much as she loved Teddy, no matter how hard she tried. She was tired of pretending to be someone she was not. She just wanted to scream her frustration at the top of her lungs, scream that she would always be Jean Brodie, would never be Mrs. Gordon Lowther. But she couldn't. She would have to go on lying, go on pretending. And she didn't know if she could.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

As always, dedicated to kissofdeath, KristaMarie, micha, and tabbyhearts.

Lines marked with an asterisk are taken from "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie" by Muriel Spark.

The rest of their time in New York passed without any more outbursts from Jean. She tried hard to remain good-natured – if she couldn't love Gordon the way he loved her, she'd at least try to have a sunny temperament. It was difficult, but she treated it as a challenge. But it was not an easy challenge to undertake – she was still suffering from the most horrible longing for Teddy. Food held no appeal for her, and she began losing weight. Gordon didn't notice – he was too happy that Jean had accepted his promise ring to notice her unhappiness. She began having nightmares, nightmares where she was married to Gordon, or where Teddy left her yet again. During those last nights in New York, Jean often woke up in the middle of the night, drenched with sweat. Because of her nightmares, she had not gotten a good night's sleep since they arrived.

Their time in New York came to an end, and they once more boarded the R.M.S. Mauretania. Jean was not feeling very well – she hadn't eaten a proper meal or had a good night of sleep in nearly a week. Gordon, however, was in fine form – energetic, happy, and blind to Jean's poor health.

On their fourth night aboard ship, as she prepared for her bath, Jean fainted. Gordon was not there – he was in the smoking room – and he did not return until nearly four hours later. She had fainted just outside of the bathroom and was sprawled across the carpet. When Gordon returned at nearly midnight and found her on the carpet, he panicked. Kneeling beside her, he tried to wake her up.

"Jean, Jean darling," he said, holding her in his arms. "Please, please wake up."

To his great relief, she began to stir, opening her eyes.

"Gordon," she began, struggling to sit up. "What happened?"

"I suppose you fainted, Jean," he said. He noticed for the first time the pallor of her skin, the enunciation of her cheekbones. "Jean, are you all right?" he asked.

"Of course I am," she snapped, struggling to get out of his embrace.

"No, you're not, Jean," he said. "You've lost so much weight."

"No I haven't," Jean replied vehemently, still struggling to free herself from his arms. He refused to let her go.

"Oh, my darling," he said, stroking her cheek. She bit her tongue, wanting to scream out that she was not his darling, would only ever be Teddy's darling, even if he didn't want her. She closed her eyes as she felt tears fall down her face. "Jean, what's wrong?" he asked her.

"I'm so tired," she whimpered. It was true, and if she wasn't so absolutely exhausted, she would never allow herself to be so vulnerable, especially in front of Gordon. "I'm so tired," she repeated, beginning to sob.

He cradled her in his arms, stroking her hair softly, as she buried her head against his chest. She continued to sob, her tears soaking his shirt. Eventually her sobs abated as she fell asleep. Gordon picked her up and brought her to their bed before getting changed into his pyjamas. He brought a chair up the edge of the bed and, taking her hand in his, watched her sleep.

Gordon couldn't believe that he hadn't noticed before that she was not well – she had lost quite a lot of weight, there were dark, bruise-like marks beneath her eyes, and her skin was pale, so pale... How could he not have noticed?

She was dreaming of darkness again, floating in a blissfully empty void of nothingness. There was absolutely nothing and no one there to disturb her. And for the first time in days, she was able to sleep.

He watched her sleep, relieved that she seemed to be slumbering peacefully. He finally pushed the chair aside and joined Jean in bed. Gordon desperately wanted to take her in his arms, but he resisted, not wanting to disturb her sleep. He forced himself to fall asleep without the soothing feel of her body in his arms.

The next morning, Jean woke up feeling refreshed for the first time in quite a long time. She smiled, stretching, and slipped out of bed to take the bath she hadn't had the chance to take last night. Jean was in a wonderful mood by the time she emerged from her bath. Gordon was still asleep, and she wrote a quick note to him before going to the dining room for breakfast.

When she returned he was in the bath.

"Good morning, darling," she said, entering the bathroom. She perched on the edge of the bathtub. He reached out to take her hand.

"Good morning, Jean," he replied. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," she said. "Thank you."

He smiled up at her. "Would you care to join me?" he asked her.

"All right," she agreed, and began undressing. Leaving her clothes draped across the sink, she took Gordon's hand and stepped into the bath, settling herself between his legs, her back resting against his chest. Gordon sighed in contentment as she settled back against him.

He nuzzled her neck, pleased when she let out a soft sigh and tilted her head to give him easier access. His kisses trailed down her neck to her collarbone, lingering there as she moaned. He slipped his hands around her hips, lifting her up. She gripped the sides of the bathtub and lowered herself onto him.

"Oh, Gordon," she moaned as she moved on top of him. "Oh, yes..."

"Jean..."

She came, her back arching, and he joined her. Once more she rested against his chest after he slipped out of her. He nuzzled her neck.

"I love you, Jean," he whispered, and she bit back a sigh. Did he always have to say that after they made love?

"I love you, too," she replied. She climbed out of the bathtub. "Let's go for a walk on deck, hmm?" she suggested.

"All right," he agreed, exiting the tub himself. They got dressed and exited their room to begin their stroll along the top deck, hand in hand.

They paused at the bow of the ship for quite a while. Jean leaned against the railings and Gordon wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked Gordon.

"Mmm, yes," he said, kissing her neck. "You are."

She smiled slightly. "Not me, Gordon – the ocean," she said.

"I suppose," he said. "It's nothing compared to your beauty, however."

"I'll have none of that," she said in her best teacher voice, though it was belied as she giggled slightly when he kissed her neck again.

"Where do you want to go next summer?" he asked her, and she could not help stiffening at the question. She didn't want to be with him next summer, though she knew that she would. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Just a bit cold," she lied. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her. "Um, next summer – I'm not quite sure yet," she said.

"All right," he replied. "Would you like to go back inside?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Lunch, perhaps?" she suggested, and it was his turn to nod in agreement. They entered the dining room for a quiet lunch.

Three days later they docked in Liverpool, quite late in the evening. They once more stayed at the small hotel a few blocks from the dock. The next day they took the train up to Edinburgh, back to Cramond.

"I need to go back to my flat tomorrow, Gordon," Jean said.

"Why?" he asked her.

"You know that I can't get pregnant, Gordon," she said softly.

"Oh," he replied, blushing.

"I'll be back next week," Jean said, smiling tenderly up at him.

"All right," he agreed reluctantly.

"Why don't we have lunch on Wednesday?" she suggested.

"Where?"

"Well, it'll have to be in a restaurant," she said.

"Why?" he asked, curious.

She forced herself to blush slightly. "I won't trust myself to have you over at my flat," she said softly.

"All right," Gordon said, kissing her lightly on her forehead. "Let's go to bed, hmm?"

"Mmm, yes," she replied. They walked upstairs to his bedroom and got changed into their nightclothes. She slipped into his arms.

"Good night, darling," he said, kissing her lightly.

"Good night," she replied.

Jean was so relieved to be apart from Gordon for an entire week – she had needed that time to herself. Though they did meet for lunch on Wednesday, she was glad to be able to go back to her own flat, alone, after their lunch.

But as the days passed, Jean had grown to miss him – especially his presence in bed. So she was glad when he picked her up on Saturday morning.

As soon as they arrived at Cramond, Jean began kissing him passionately.

"Oh, Gordon," she murmured, her lips on his. "I need you." He lifted her up in his arms, intending to bring her upstairs. "No, Gordon, I need you now," she said, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"Oh, Jean," he whispered, setting her down on her feet. Jean pulled him into a deeper kiss, pressing herself up against him. He didn't bother to unbutton her dress, simply pushed up the skirt. She wasn't wearing any knickers, a discovery which made him moan with desire.

"Now, Gordon, now," she whispered softly. He didn't respond, simply pressed her against the wall. Pushing into her, he moaned as she cried out in ecstasy.

"Yes, Jean, yes!" he cried as she came, joining her a few moments later. She rested her head against his shoulder as he slipped out of her.

"Mmm," she sighed as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She looked up at him. "I suppose we should bring my things upstairs."

"All right," he agreed, straightening up. He got dressed – Jean hadn't undressed – and they brought her things upstairs. Afterwards they went downstairs for tea.

"Why don't we sleep in the orchard tomorrow night?" Jean suggested later that evening as they lay in bed.

"It's quite uncomfortable, don't you think?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"It's magical... and so romantic," she replied.

"But what if it rains?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes, though he could not see. "Och, Gordon, where's your sense of adventure? We can sleep beneath the stars, looking up at the sky... it will be marvellous. The last time we slept there we barely noticed our surroundings," she said.

He blushed, but agreed. "All right," he said. "Tomorrow night."

"Good," she replied, kissing his chest lightly. "I'll make us a delicious dinner and you can set up the orchard."

He kissed her hair lightly. "All right," he said again. He would never deny her anything.

The next afternoon Jean was busy with making their dinner while Gordon set up the orchard. When she was finished with their dinner – it was quite a simple meal, consisting of bread, cheese, apples, and a rich chocolate cake for dessert – she joined him in the orchard. He had set up the orchard just as he had the night of her birthday. It was not yet dark, though it was nearly nine o'clock, but he had lit the candles in the lantern anyway.

Jean smiled at him as she stepped into their little sanctuary. He rushed over to take the picnic basket from her hand. He set up their dinner while Jean took off her shoes and stockings. She joined him on the blanket and they began to feed each other lovingly as the sun set. They finished their meal and lay back against the pillows of their makeshift bed. She lay snuggled in his arms, looking up at the stars. A shooting star arched across the heavens.

"Make a wish, Jean," he said.

She closed her eyes and wished that Teddy would love her. But opening her eyes, she only saw Gordon looking down at her devotedly.

"What did you wish?' he asked her.

"You know that if I tell you it won't come true," she replied, closing her eyes and resting her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her, nuzzling her neck.

"I love you, Jean," he whispered.

"I love you," she replied, imagining that she was safely ensconced in Teddy's arms.

He continued to kiss the soft skin of her neck, feeling her sigh happily as he began to unbutton her dress. She kept her eyes closed as he undressed her, then himself, so that she could imagine that it was Teddy who was about to make love to her. She felt him spread her legs gently before he entered her.

She wanted to moan Teddy's name, but she didn't, biting down on her lower lip to stop herself. As she bit back Teddy's name, she felt herself become peculiarly detached from her body, as though she was not a participant in the act.

"Oh, yes," he whispered hoarsely as he pushed into her. "Yes, Jean, yes!" She could feel him thrusting within her in, though she was still disconnected from her body.

"Oh!" she heard herself cry out, her eyes still closed. With a jolt, she fell back to earth and re-entered her body. She opened her eyes, looking up at her lover, who was stroking her hair, looking down at her concernedly.

"Are you all right?" Gordon asked her.

She blinked dazedly. "Why wouldn't I be?" she asked him confusedly.

"You fainted," he said.

"I did?" she asked him. He nodded. "Well, I am fine," she said.

"I'm glad, Jean," he said. She closed her eyes once more and rested her head against his chest. "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied, her eyes still closed. She fell asleep, wrapped in his arms.

They were woken up next morning by birds singing brightly. It was daylight and the sun had begun to stream through the boughs of the apple trees, lighting up their bodies. He kissed her lightly as she awoke.

"Good morning," she whispered softly.

"Good morning," he replied. "Did you sleep well?"

She nodded, looking up through the branches of the apple trees at the sun. He watched her as the sun gently slid up her body, caressing her skin. She was so beautiful in this moment, this moment in which the sun loved her as much as he did. Jean rolled onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows, and looked at him.

"Let's go in and have breakfast, shall we?" she suggested, and he nodded. Jean stood, wrapping a blanket around her, and he rose as well, as though in a dream. Bending down, he kissed her softly, and she returned the kiss, but pulled back shortly after it had begun. He rested his forehead against hers and looked into her eyes.

"You're so beautiful, Jean," he whispered, and she smiled up at him.

"Let's go in to breakfast," she said, and he nodded, his eyes still fixed on her. She looked at him strangely. "Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded, still watching her. She laid a hand on his cheek, breaking him out of his trance. He bent down and picked up his trousers, stepping into them. He then shrugged into his shirt. Taking her hand, they walked into the house.

Later that evening, they returned to the orchard to bring the rest of the blankets and the remains of their picnic inside. She had wanted to sleep outside again, but Gordon had insisted that they sleep in his bed tonight. Jean had sighed in disappointment, but had not protested further. It would be a long three weeks if she started arguing with him already.

She couldn't sleep that night, and late that night she slipped out of her lover's arms. She shrugged into her dressing gown and began to wander the halls. She stopped downstairs in the living room and curled up on the window seat. Pressing her forehead against the cool glass, she stared out into night.

How much longer could she be with Gordon? She didn't know. She didn't love him enough to remain with him, but she had no choice.

Jean heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Jean?" her lover's soft voice called out to her.

She sighed quietly. "Yes, Gordon?" she replied, not turning around. She heard him coming up behind her, felt the cushions on the window seat sink as he joined her.

"Aren't you coming back to bed?"

"In a bit," she replied, still staring out into the night.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

Finally she turned to him – tears were cascading down her face. He looked at her in amazement, his thumb gently wiping away her tears. She leaned forward and buried her face against his chest.

He held her tightly to him, stroking her hair.

Eventually she pulled back. "Let's go to bed," she whispered, and he nodded. They returned to his bedroom, and once more Jean slipped beneath the covers and into his arms, the arms which held her so tightly to him – against her will. She slid into a restless sleep, still trapped in Gordon's embrace.

The rest of the summer passed quickly and school began again. It was her girls' last year with her as a teacher, and Jean was terribly saddened by that thought. But her girls would always be Brodie girls.

Jean was quite pleased that she would only have to spend time with Gordon on weekends, and was very glad that she would have her girls with her on Sunday mornings. Though she had enjoyed the summer – parts of it, at least – she did not regret it coming to an end. She still spent the weekends with Gordon, but thankfully not the entire week.

Though Jean had wished, that one night in the orchard, that Teddy would love her, he did not confront her at all. She was deeply saddened – and partly relieved – by the fact that he didn't confront her – sad that he obviously didn't love her as she loved him, and relieved because she knew that she would not be able to resist him again. Jean didn't want to give in to him – deep down, she didn't believe that they would have a happy ending.

But Jean still longed for Teddy, even while she was with Gordon, even though she believed, deep in her heart, that even if he did love her as she loved him, they would never live happily ever after. So Jean tried, tried with everything that she had, to make herself happy. And she was successful in appearing as though she was happy, though she was not completely happy in reality. But during the last few months of her teaching she made herself adorable. She did not exhort or bicker and even when hard pressed was irritable only with Mary Macgregor. That spring she monopolised with her class the benches under the elm.* She wanted her girls to have happy memories of their time in her class when they graduated to the senior school in a month.

She and Gordon also took them out to the theatre, the opera, and the galleries a few times a month, on Sundays. The last play they attended was "Hedda Gabler", two weeks ago.

One Monday in early April, two months before they were going to leave her tutelage, Jean and her girls had one of their picnics outside. These were quite regular occurrences, but today's was different.

It began much the same as their other picnics.

"The sun!" Jean exclaimed, looking up at the sky. "Forsooth, we are renewed. Refreshment alfresco. Enough to go round, but the lion's share for Mr. Lowther. This term I have sworn to fatten Mr. Lowther by a full half-stone," she said, looking at the window of the music room. They could hear him singing "Hey Johnny Cope". "That is my pledge." She smoothly segued into another topic – or a topic that seemed like another one. "Did I neglect to tell you girls that once, on leave from the war, Hugh took me out sailing on a fishing boat. We spent our happiest times among the rocks and pebbles of a small seaport. Sometimes, Hugh would sing," she said, skilfully weaving the traits of Gordon Lowther with that of her dead fiancé. He had a rich tenor voice. At other times, he would set up his easel and paint," she continued, also adding to Hugh the characteristics of Teddy Lloyd. She needed to speak of her relationships to someone, but it wouldn't do for her girls to know too much – not yet, at least. So she carefully cloaked her present love affairs in that of the love affair of days past. "Hugh was very talented in both arts, but I think... I think the painter was the real Hugh." She didn't see Sandy and Jenny exchange a look of understanding fraught with mirth. Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she wrapped her arms around her girls' shoulders. "But you girls are my life now. I am the potter, and you are my pride. You are shaping up. Soon you will graduate to the senior school and I will no longer teach you, but you will always be Brodie girls." She looked up to see Gordon running across the lawn to them.

"Ah! Here comes our Mr. Lowther," she exclaimed happily. "Our minstrel sweet, oh, synge unto me roundelaie. Oh, droppe the brynie tear with me. De da de da de da de da, and like a running river be," she finished as he removed his cloak and sat down next to her. "Now, Mr. Lowther, you must cooperate with the fattening project," she said, buttering a cracker. "It will enrich your voice." She stuffed the cracker into his mouth. "Caruso had the appetite of a giant," she said.

"What good care you take of me," he said, smiling at her.

She granted him a smile and began leading her girls in song.

"La, la, la, la, la-la

La, la, la, la la-la..."

He interrupted her singing.

"I was noticed at the theatre," he whispered as she buttered another cracker. "I was noticed and reported to Mr. Gaunt."

"Mr. Gaunt?" she asked, looking at him. He nodded. "Oh, that deacon at Cramond. Whatever for?"

"Well, he considered Hedda Gabler... well, he said that the choirmaster of his church had no business attending that sort of thing with an unmarried lady, and children," Gordon finished. He saw Jean's girls looking at him. "O-oh, I defended myself," he said. "Fiercely."

"Girls, as you hear, there's now been an attempt to persecute Mr. Lowther on our account. One must never succumb to provincial ignorance. Mr Lowther did not," she said, smiling at him lovingly. He tentatively returned her smile. "Nor shall anyone under my tutelage. Now, eat up, Mr. Lowther," she said. "What is it, Sandy?" she asked, noticing that Sandy was looking at the school building.

"Miss Mackay is watching us from her window," Sandy replied.

"Oh, indeed," Jean chuckled, bending down to look at Miss Mackay. "I wonder how many more picnics we will be allowed before Miss Mackay thinks fit to patrol the grounds," she finished, waving her fingers at Miss Mackay, who let the curtain drop. Jean straightened up. "It is Miss Mackay's hope to harass me into leaving Marcia Blaine. Miss Gaunt and certain teachers have taken to bidding me good morning with predestination in their smiles."

"Do you really think Miss Mackay wants to drive you away?" asked Jenny worriedly.

Jean laughed. "It doesn't signify what Miss Mackay wants. Here I am and here I stay. I would not leave you girls for the Lord..."

"Lyon, King-of-Arms," Sandy interrupted her.

Jean laughed again. "Not even he! I shall remain in this education factory where my duty lies. If they want to get rid of me, they'll have to..." she chuckled, "assassinate me!" Her girls and Gordon laughed with her. "Now, eat up, Mr. Lowther!" she said, popping a cracker into his mouth. "Cooperation is the key note. Now, Jenny, do us a cartwheel for comic relief," she said. Gordon and Jean resettled themselves on the bench surrounding the elm tree and watched Jenny cartwheel, applauding.

"Oh! Wonderful!" Gordon said.

"Oh, bravo, bravo!" Jean cried. Jenny settled herself at Jean's feet, resting her head against Jean's knee.

"These are my girls, Mr. Lowther," Jean said, turning to Gordon. "Forsooth, they are Brodie girls. Monica... Monica is histrionic." Monica looked perplexed. "She will perform in plays, or perhaps write them. Mary... our Mary is alone in this world. Her needs are great, but she has me. Mary will stop stuttering, she will brisk up. Mary Macgregor will distinguish herself for mer. I have no doubt. Then there is Jenny," Jean began, stroking Jenny's red-gold hair. "Sometimes I feel there is a spiritual bond between Jenny and me. I don't expect Jenny feels this yet, but someday she will. And Sandy... Sandy is..." Jean trailed off, unable to describe Sandy.

"Sandy is dependable," Sandy interjected. Jean and Gordon laughed.

"Oh, Sandy. Sandy is very dependable. Now, Monica, recite for us, please," Jean requested.

"What shall I recite, Miss Brodie?" Monica asked.

"Something... something of magic."

Monica nodded.

"There she weaves by night and day  
A magic web with colours gay.  
She has heard a whisper say,  
A curse is on her if she stay  
To look down to Camelot.  
She knows not what the curse may be..." she, Jenny, and Sandy broke out into giggles.

"Mr. Lowther, the Philistines are upon us," Jean said disapprovingly, beginning to recite the poem herself, slipping into a dream-like state where nothing seemed real.

"She knows not what the curse may be,  
And so she weaveth steadily,  
And little other care hath she,  
The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights  
To weave the mirror's magic sights,  
For often through the silent nights  
A funeral, with plumes and lights  
And music, went to Camelot;  
Or when the Moon was overhead,  
Came two young lovers lately wed.  
"I am half sick of shadows," said  
The Lady of Shalott."

"The Lady of Shalott," Jenny repeated.

Jean smiled down at her favourite girl. "I think perhaps someday, Jenny will catch the eye of an artist. Jenny will be painted many times. In years to come, I think that Jenny will be famous for... sex," Jean finished. Jenny would be painted by Teddy, Jean decided, though she had already unconsciously decided that quite some time ago. And Jenny could be Teddy's lover...

Gordon looked horrified. How could Jean be speculating on such things – Jenny was only fourteen years old. But then Jean turned to him and smiled dreamily, and all things were forgotten as he lost himself in those limpid blue eyes that looked like the sea.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

* * *

As always, dedicated to kissofdeath, KristaMarie, micha, and tabbyhearts.

* * *

Three days after that picnic, Easter break began. Jean and Gordon had decided to travel to London for their week and a half of freedom. She had been to London quite often, mainly on her way to other countries; he had only been twice.

He had had to register them as husband and wife again; instead of wearing his mother's wedding ring this time, she wore her promise ring on her left hand instead of her right. He wore his father's wedding ring.

They took the train down to London that Friday afternoon, arriving at the Savoy late that evening. They were immediately shown up to their room, where they went to bed.

They woke up early the next morning to the sun streaming through the windows.

"Oh, it's a beautiful day," Jean said, throwing open the drapes. She looked down at the streets of London.

He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Would you like to go for a walk after breakfast?" he asked, and she nodded, still looking out at the city.

They got dressed and went down to the dining room, after which they began to walk through the streets of London. They hadn't gone far when it began to rain buckets. Luckily, they had both brought their raincoats, but the rain was coming down quite hard. He grasped her hand and they began to run back to their hotel. Halfway back to their hotel, Jean spotted a photograph booth, which she pointed out to Gordon. She pulled him towards the booth and they entered it, gasping for breath.

While Jean fluffed out her hair, Gordon inserted the money. They posed for their photographs – the first one was of them smiling demurely; for the second, he kissed her cheek sweetly as she blushed; the third showed them kissing lightly; and the fourth and final one showed their heads resting together, smiling at the camera. They waited for a few moments for their photographs to print out; once they had, they once more entered the rain.

Gordon had his camera with him, so once they reached the hotel, he asked the doorman to take a picture of them. He wrapped his raincoat around her as she nestled in his arms. She smiled up at him as the doorman took the photograph; he was smiling down at her as well, a drop of water settling at the end of his nose. Once the picture had been taken, Gordon collected his camera and tipped the doorman before they entered the hotel.

As they rode the elevator up to their room, Jean began to shiver. Gordon wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she snuggled into his embrace.

"We ought both to take a bath as soon as we get to our room," Jean said between chattering teeth.

"All right," he agreed. The elevator stopped at their floor and they entered their room. Jean immediately entered the bathroom to start their bath. Gordon joined her a few moments later after he had hung up his clothes to dry.

Jean was already undressed and was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, waiting for it to fill. Gordon joined her. When their bath had filled, Jean slipped into the water.

"Join me, Gordon," Jean said, and he nodded, stepping into the tub. They relaxed, warming up, and soon they stepped out of the bathtub and dried off. Gordon began to get dressed, but Jean stopped him.

"Come to bed, Gordon," Jean whispered, and he allowed her to lead him into the bedroom. He pulled down the bedcovers and she slipped between them. He stood there, looking at her for a moment. "Come to bed," she said again, and he joined her between the covers.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her closely to him for a moment.

"I love you, Jean," he said, and she smiled at him.

"I love you, Gordon," she replied. Leaning over, she turned out the lights and returned to his arms. She began to kiss him, her lips moving sensuously against his, and he returned the kisses, wrapping his arms around her waist. They prolonged their lovemaking this time, slowly and tenderly caressing each other, until finally Gordon entered her. She moaned quietly as they moved with each other.

Afterwards, as they lay together in bed, she shivered.

"Cold, Jean?" he asked her, and she nodded. He leaned down and pulled the covers up over them. Still shivering, she moved closer to Gordon, who obligingly wrapped his arms around her.

"Gordon, I'm afraid," she whispered some time later. She was afraid, though she didn't know why.

He didn't respond, and when she looked up at him, she saw that he was asleep. Sighing, she moved as close to him as she could and tried to fall asleep. She did, finally, but dreamt the most terrible things, though when she woke she could not remember any of them.

The rest of their time in London was quite unremarkable. Most afternoons it rained, and thus they spent most of their time in bed. On the days that it did not rain, they went for long walks around London, hand in hand.

When their holiday came to a close, they took the train back to Edinburgh. They had only three more days left before school began, and they spent the rest of their time at Cramond, relaxing. But Jean was dreading their return to Marcia Blaine – it meant that her girls would only be in her class for one more month before they left her for the Senior School.

That last month passed far too quickly for Jean's liking – not only were her girls leaving her, but the ending of the school year meant that it was once more time to spend the summer with Gordon.

They had been together for a year and a half now, and he doted on her more than ever. Jean's feelings for Gordon fluctuated – at times she absolutely despised him, and at other times she loved him with (almost) her whole heart. His love for her was calm, stable, and reliable – her love for him was tempestuous, coming in fits and bursts much like sunlight breaking through rainclouds.

On their first anniversary, Gordon had once again prepared the orchard for their use. It seemed that they always celebrated there, and while Gordon didn't particularly enjoy sleeping outside, Jean did. He had been so kind, so loving to her on their anniversary. She had had quite a lot of trouble in finding a romantic present for him, but had finally decided on purchasing opera tickets for "La Traviata". He had given her a large bouquet of flowers, a large box of Swiss chocolates, and their tickets to London for Easter.

She took great care to make Gordon's birthday a quite romantic event. Once again, she had bought a new negligee for his enjoyment – this one was a deep blue, bringing out the colour of her eyes. She had cooked for him, making his favourite dinner, and had filled the house with flowers. In addition to the new negligee, she had found several first editions of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's "Sherlock Holmes" books, which were his favourites.

After they had eaten their dinner, they retired to his bedroom. She had made sure to pleasure him first, as it was his birthday. He enjoyed being the centre of her attention, though he far preferred making her happy. For him, it was far more gratifying to see her happy than it was to have her pleasure him. But he did enjoy his birthday.

And now it was time for hers. He had purchased tickets on the Orient Express which would take them from London to Venice. They would then travel within Italy – Milan, Rome, and Florence – for a few weeks, before returning to Edinburgh.

Gordon hoped that she would enjoy this holiday more than she had enjoyed their trip to New York – though she had given every outward appearance of enjoying their trip, she had been quite... irritable at times. Perhaps the journey to New York had been too long. At least the Orient Express would only take five days, after which they'd have three weeks in Italy. And she loved Italy, often talked about it. He hoped that this holiday would be more of a success.

For her birthday, he had cooked for her, making a simple picnic. He thought that he would set up their picnic in the orchard again, but it had started to rain early in the afternoon. The rain had quickly turned into a full-fledged thunderstorm, so Gordon had improvised, setting up the living room as he had planned to set up the orchard. Moving the furniture against the walls, he set up a makeshift bed –one that was far more comfortable than the bed they slept in when they slept in the orchard, as the carpeted floor of the living room was more cushioned than the ground outside.

He had asked Jean not enter the living room until he had finished decorating, so she stayed upstairs in their bedroom, reading. Finally he had finished setting up the living room, and he went upstairs to fetch her.

Though she was quite disappointed they couldn't have her birthday celebration in the orchard, she was absolutely enchanted with how he had decorated the living room. He'd lit dozens of candles, placing them strategically around the room, along with many bouquets of roses.

"Oh, Gordon," she breathed, turning to him. "It's wonderful."

He smiled down at her, bending to kiss her lightly. She pulled him down onto the bed, continuing to kiss him. He pulled back from her.

"Don't you want dinner?" he asked her, and she nodded. They ate quietly – conversation was no longer needed after their year and a half together. When they were finished, Gordon brought the picnic basket back to the kitchen while Jean leaned back against the pillows, waiting for him.

He returned a few moments later, carrying a few presents in his arms. She smiled up at him.

"Ready for your presents, Jean?" he asked her, and she nodded happily. He handed her the largest of the presents to open first, which she did, revealing several phonograph records – one of "La Traviata", one of Bing Crosby, and one of the music of George and Ira Gershwin.

"Thank you, Gordon," she said, leaning over to kiss him. He smiled softly at her and handed her the next present. She opened it, revealing a small photograph album. She flipped through it, looking at the pictures of her and Gordon over the last year and a half. She leaned over and kissed him softly once more.

"There's still one more present," he said once they broke out of their kiss. He handed it to her, and when she opened it, she was stunned.

"Oh, Gordon," she breathed. "Thank you."

"I know that you love Italy, Jean, so I thought we'd go there this summer," he explained. She beamed at him.

"I'm so glad," she whispered, throwing her arms around his neck. He caressed her cheek softly.

"We're leaving in ten days," he said, and she smiled.

"I can't wait," she said. And she couldn't. She loved Italy – it was one of her favourite places in the world.

He smiled down at her, bending down to kiss her. She twined her arms around his neck and let him pull her into his lap. Soon, however, she broke the kiss.

"Dance with me," she whispered, picking up her new Bing Crosby record. He stood up and took the record from her hand, setting it on the gramophone. He cranked it and "It's Easy to Remember" began to play. He took her in his arms and they began to sway in time with the music. She rested her head against his shoulder as he crooned the words along with Bing Crosby.

"Your sweet expression  
The smile you gave me  
The way you looked when we met.  
It's easy to remember  
But so hard to forget.  
I hear you whisper  
"I'll always love you."  
I know it's over, and yet,  
It's easy to remember  
But so hard to forget.

So I must dream  
To have your hand caress me,  
Fingers press me tight.  
I'd rather dream  
Than have that lonely feeling  
Stealing through the night.  
Each little moment  
Is clear before me  
And though it brings me regret  
It's easy to remember  
But so hard to forget."

When the song came to a close, he tilted her chin up and met her lips with his. Jean smiled against his lips as they sank to the floor. He began undressing her slowly, pushing her back against the pillows of their makeshift bed. She returned his kisses, undressing him as well. They were soon completely naked and Gordon had begun trailing kisses along her skin.

"Oh, darling," she moaned, writhing in pleasure beneath his touch. "I love you, love you!"

He continued to kiss her, his mouth travelling lower and lower and she gasped in surprise as his mouth reached her crux. Jean had never thought that Gordon would touch her there, never suspected he would ever want to bring her pleasure that way. But oh! it was divine – she could feel herself spiralling closer and closer to orgasm faster and with more passion than any other time they had made love.

"Oh, Gordon!" she cried out as she came. He moved back up her body as she recovered.

"Was that all right?" he asked her, looking down at her concernedly.

"Oh, God, yes," she whispered, still catching her breath. "Oh, Gordon, my love, that was marvellous." She raked her fingers through his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. Her other hand crept down to his erection, which she began to stroke lightly as she kissed him.

They broke out of the kiss. "I need you inside me, Gordon," she whispered softly. He nodded, entering her as she moaned her pleasure. She came for a second, then third time before he allowed himself release, collapsing on top of her. He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him.

"I love you, Jean," he whispered softly, caressing her cheek.

"I love you, Gordon," she replied, snuggling closer to him. He pulled the blankets over them and wrapped his arms around her once more.

"Happy birthday, my dearest, most darling love," he whispered.

"Thank you, Gordon," she replied. Yawning, she rested her head against his chest and fell asleep, smiling.

He looked down at her tenderly, smiling as he watched her sleep. She was so wonderful, so beautiful. He was very glad that she liked the way he had pleasured her tonight. He never would have had the audacity to try that, even though he had wanted to for a long time, if he hadn't come upon the book she was reading. Earlier that week, when Jean was taking a bath, he had accidentally knocked her book off her nightstand. He picked it up curiously, looking at the title – it was an underground copy of D.H. Lawrence's banned novel "Lady Chatterley's Lover". Gordon had flipped through the book, lighting upon a passage that made him blush with embarrassment. He heard the bathtub drain and hurriedly set the book aside, still blushing.

Gordon hadn't been able to stop thinking about that rather explicit passage he had read, couldn't stop imagining what it might be like to make love to Jean like that. So he had decided to try to make love to her in that way on her birthday. And he had. Gordon was so relieved that she had enjoyed it – he, too had enjoyed pleasuring her.

She moved closer to him in her sleep, still smiling. He kissed her forehead lightly and wrapped his arms more tightly around her before joining her in slumber.

The next ten days passed quickly, once more in a whirl of packing for their trip. Jean was very excited for their trip – she loved Italy – and she didn't even mind that Gordon would be with her – in fact, she was looking forward to showing Gordon the country she so loved. They left for London the day before the Orient Express departed, staying at the Savoy overnight. The next morning they boarded their train.

Though they had a first-class compartment, very luxurious, the bed was quite small and narrow. Jean was worried that she would fall out, but Gordon said that she could sleep against the wall and he'd take the risk of falling out of bed. She smiled softly at him – he was so considerate. While Gordon went to see what kind of food the dining car served, Jean unpacked their things. When she had finished, she relaxed on the bed, reading her underground – and illegal – copy of "Lady Chatterley's Lover". She had just finished the fourth chapter when Gordon returned, and she tucked it away.

"Ready for lunch?" he asked her, and she nodded, standing up and taking his arm. They left their compartment and he locked the door behind them. She took his arm once more and beamed up at him, so excited that they were finally on their way to Italy.

Later that evening, after dinner, Jean changed for bed while Gordon planned to go to the bar.

"I'll be back soon, sweetheart," he said, bending down to kiss her lightly. She smiled up at him.

"All right, dear," she replied, returning his kiss.

He smiled down at her once more before exiting their compartment.

She rummaged through her trunk and pulled out "Lady Chatterley's Lover" again, immersing herself in the book once more. It was marvellous – Jean could not believe that it was illegal to own such a wonderful book. She had finished the sixth chapter when Gordon returned.

"Hello, darling," he said. She set her book down and smiled up at him.

"Hello, Gordon," she replied. He came over and kissed her lightly.

"I'm going to take a bath," he said, and she nodded. He smiled down at her once more before stepping into their small bathroom. Jean continued to read her book, tucking it away when Gordon emerged from the bathroom clad in his pyjamas. He smiled softly at her, her golden hair glinting in the light.

He climbed into bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her. She snuggled into his arms.

"Good night, darling," he whispered, kissing her lips lightly.

"Good night, my dear," she replied, returning his kiss. They fell asleep a few moments later.

The rest of their journey passed quite peacefully. Jean was in such a good mood throughout their trip, knowing that soon they would be in Italy. During their trip Teddy was barely in her mind – and during that trip, she was more in love with Gordon than ever. He, in return, showered her with all the love and affection he felt for her.

Those days in Italy were the happiest times of their relationship. Jean was so pleased to be back in Italy and truly enjoyed showing Gordon her favourite places. They spent so much of their time walking through the streets of Rome, Milan, Florence... Gordon loved seeing her so animated, so in love with life – and with him. She smiled all the time and she absolutely glowed with happiness. Jean loved interacting with the people of Italy, loved the cities they visited, loved speaking Italian. He, in turn, loved to watch her with the Italian people, loved having her show him her favourite places, loved listening to her speak Italian. She spoke Italian with such a charming lilt, her burr creeping into her voice as she conversed with the locals.

She was so buoyant, involved, vivacious, during their time in Italy – he had never seen her look so alive, not even when she was with her girls, or in bed with him. She positively sparkled with happiness.

They made love every night – Jean was quite insatiable, and he supposed it was the Italian climate that made her so passionate. He took so many pictures of her, wanting to capture the beautiful, bright woman that she was during their trip.

Jean could not possibly have been more in love with Gordon during their trip – for the first time in their relationship, she was able to give herself to him, freely and without reservations. She supposed that it was the influence that Italy had on her – Italy had always made her feel freer, more alive, and this trip was not an exception. She was so happy, happier than she had been for a long time. Jean barely thought of Teddy during their trip, focussing all of her attention and love on Gordon. She loved him so much during that month in Italy, more than she ever had, or ever would, love him again.

Every morning when Jean woke up, Gordon had already gone downstairs and brought breakfast for her. While they were in Italy, Jean and Gordon took their breakfast outside on the balcony of their hotel room. Quite often she would pull Gordon into their bedroom once again to make love.

Unfortunately, their holiday had to come to an end. During the last few days of their trip, before they boarded the Orient Express once more, she had slowly grown apart from him. The further they travelled from Italy, the more Jean thought of Teddy, and the less she loved Gordon. By the time they returned to Edinburgh, her love for Gordon was as erratic and tempestuous as it had been when they had left for Italy. Her feelings were a bit more tender towards him, but apart from that, they remained much the same as they had before their trip to Italy.

Gordon sensed her growing away from him and tried with everything he could to bridge the growing gap between them. It was futile – the more he tried to be close to her the more she grew apart from him. She had always been uncomfortable with his effusive professions of love, but now more than ever. She couldn't help but wince when he would shower her with kisses, wrap his arms around her waist, or rest his hand on her knee under the table.

She tried, truly she did, to remain in love with him, but it was no use. Away from Italy, she quickly found her newly-discovered passion for him winding down, being replaced once more with her enduring love for Teddy Lloyd. It was not, needless to say, a good beginning for the new school year, certainly not helped by the fact that her girls were no longer in her class, and that they were replaced by a newer, larger group of students. Yes, her girls still came to lunch at Cramond on Sundays, but it was not the same, would never be the same again.

Jean began dreaming of Teddy more often than ever before, even before they had had that one night at the studio. Quite often she would wake up, drenched in sweat, shocked by the intensity of her passion for the man who didn't love her and couldn't be with her. Unknown to her, she would often moan Teddy's name in her sleep, especially when she was at Cramond. At times, her moaning would wake up Gordon, who had begun to suspect that she loved Teddy Lloyd far more than she loved him. Her dreams about him only confirmed his suspicions – he had seen the way that they looked at each other, had felt Jean shiver when Teddy brushed against her in the corridors at school. He did not let Jean know that he knew that she was in love with Teddy Lloyd. He loved her, loved her with all his heart, but it was becoming so difficult to ignore the fact that she had belonged to him only when they were in Italy. He was quite aware that she did not continue to reject his offers of marriage because she did not want to give up teaching (though that was a valid reason in and of itself) – she rejected his proposals because she was not in love with him.

So life went on unhappily for everyone, Jean and Gordon especially. He wanted her to belong to him, wanted her to be his wife, but knew that would most likely never happen. She wanted to be able to leave Gordon and live with Teddy, but she knew that neither of those was a realistic option. So they continued on as they were, not talking to each other about the important things – such as the state of their relationship – and ignored their problems. It couldn't go on forever, and indeed it didn't – everything came to a head on their second anniversary.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

* * *

As always, dedicated to kissofdeath, KristaMarie, micha, and tabbyhearts.

I wasn't really comfortable with the way events unfolded in this chapter, and I apologise if they make anyone uncomfortable.

* * *

It was soon their second anniversary and once again Gordon was tempted to ask her to marry him, but did not, not wanting to be rejected by her once again. Their anniversary celebration this year was somewhat forced, strained – they went out to dinner, then returned to Cramond, to his bedroom.

Ever since they had returned from Italy, she had been less passionate, less involved in bed, as had Gordon. It was a chore, and neither of them enjoyed it as much. It seemed as though they were just going through the motions, and their second anniversary was no exception.

Afterwards, as she lay in his arms, she began to cry softly. She couldn't believe it had been two years since she had seduced him – it seemed like an eternity. Oh, she wished she was with Teddy! But she wasn't, most likely never would be again. Gordon stroked her hair softly.

"What's wrong, my darling?" he asked her.

"Nothing, Gordon," she said between her tears.

"Jean, don't lie to me," he said. "You're not in love with me, are you?"

She looked at him, shocked. "Of course I am, Gordon," she said. "Of course I am."

"Really, Jean?" he asked her. "Please don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying," she said, though she was. "Gordon, would I have stayed with you for two years if I wasn't in love with you?"

"I don't know, Jean – I don't understand you," he admitted.

"Believe me, Gordon," she whispered. "Please believe me."

"I want to," he sighed.

"Please, darling," she whispered, desperate for him to believe her. "Why won't you believe me?"

"Jean, you are wonderful, beautiful, perfect – I can't believe you could love someone like me."

"Gordon, you always discount your merits!" she exclaimed, frustrated.

"Tell me, then," he demanded. "Tell me why you're with me." They were sitting up in bed now, facing each other.

"You're handsome," she began, and he scoffed, "Kind, generous, and the most important thing – I love you and you love me. Do you believe me now?"

"Yes, I do," he said, and though he wasn't completely convinced, he knew the easiest way to avoid a fight was to lie to her. She granted him a beautiful smile.

"Good," she replied, leaning over to kiss him. "I love you, Gordon," she said after they broke their kiss.

"I love you, Jean," he replied, rolling her onto her back, kissing her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his kiss passionately. His lips trailed down the familiar path of her neck, her collarbone, her breasts... She refused to let him go any further, pulling him up again.

"Gordon, darling," she whispered, rolling him onto his back, "I love you." She straddled him, sinking down onto his erection, and moaned softly. She moved on top of him, slowly, tenderly.

"Jean," he moaned. She smiled down at him, still moving slowly on top of him. "Oh, Jean, I love you."

"Gordon!"

Once again they lay in each other's arms, Gordon tenderly stroking her hair.

"I do love you, Gordon," she whispered, looking up at him with adoring blue eyes.

"I believe you," he said, kissing her forehead lightly.

"Good," she said softly, resting her head against his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair as she fell asleep.

He continued to stroke her hair, letting her golden locks slip through his fingers. A line of Robert Frost's poetry came to mind as he looked down at her – "nothing gold can stay". And he knew it in his heart to be true.

Jean and Gordon woke up early the next morning so that he could drop her off at her flat before school began. Her new class was growing on her slowly – though she did miss her girls, there were several girls in her current class with potential – like Clara MacNab, the most promising girl in her new class. But some of her other girls were simply... dull. Jean certainly had her work cut out for her.

The weeks passed slowly, almost unbearably slowly, and Jean was incredibly bored. The only time the endless monotony of her days was broken was when she was teaching and when she saw her girls. But one day in late November, the tedium of her life was shattered forever, providing her with a new purpose in life.

She and Gordon were shopping for their Sunday lunch with her girls at Cramond when they spotted Sandy.

"Oh, there's Sandy!" Jean exclaimed to Gordon. "Sandy! Sandy! Sandy, dear!" Jean called out until Sandy finally spotted her. Jean raised her eyebrows and Sandy hurried across the street to Jean and Gordon.

"Hello, Miss Brodie, Mr. Lowther," Sandy said politely.

"Whatever are you doing in this neighbourhood?" Jean asked Sandy. "As you see, Mr. Lowther and I have been shopping for tomorrow's lunch." She laid her hand on Sandy's arm, smiling. "Thank goodness we can still have our Sunday lunch at Cramond," said Jean as they began walking down the street, Gordon following them. "I can't tell you how much I miss having you girls in my class this year."

"We miss you too, Miss Brodie," Sandy said.

"Tomorrow, I must tell you girls of a new plot Miss Mackay has to force me to apply for a post at a progressive – that is to say a crank – school. But I shall stay at Marcia Blaine where my duty lies. If they want to get rid of me, they will have to..."

Sandy interrupted her. "Assassinate you."

Jean laughed delightedly. "Precisely." She turned to Sandy in confusion. "I thought you were to attend some social gathering with Jenny – where is Jenny?"

"She went on home ahead of me. I stayed at the studio –" Sandy broke off.

"The studio?" Jean asked curiously, confusedly.

"She... uh, Jenny just left, you see," Sandy said, trying to cover up her slip.

"Mr. Lloyd's studio," Jean said, excited and curious. "Whatever were you doing there?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise," Sandy said. "Jenny is sitting for Mr. Lloyd."

Jean looked at Sandy, full of wonder, pleasure, and surprise – so filled with joy was she that she forgot Gordon's presence. "Jenny is sitting for Mr. Lloyd," she repeated, ecstatic. "And I wasn't – when did this begin?"

"At the start of term," Sandy answered. "I shouldn't have told you."

"Jean –" Gordon interrupted, but she ignored him.

"Oh, I'm very glad you did tell me, Sandy," Jean said, beaming. "You are developing into a girl of great insight."

"Thank you, Miss Brodie," Sandy said as they began to walk again.

"You know, Sandy," Jean began. "I would be very interested to hear your own impressions of Jenny's portrait, but we won't discuss it with the others. So Monday, after school, you'll come to my flat for tea. We'll have a nice, quiet time together."

"Yes, Miss Brodie," Sandy said as they reached Gordon's car.

"Well, come now. I'm sure Mr. Lowther will take you home," Jean said as Gordon struggled with the door of the automobile, finally opening it. "In you get, Sandy," Jean said. "Can you manage, dear?"

"Yes, thank you," Sandy replied.

Jean turned to Gordon. "Thank you, Gordon," she said, continuing to beam. He smiled back at her.

"You're very kind," Sandy said.

"Oh, you're more than welcome," Jean replied. She was still smiling as they dropped Sandy at her home and returned to Cramond.

Once they had returned to Cramond and put away the groceries for tomorrow's lunch, Jean had turned to Gordon.

"I'm going for a walk," she said.

"But it's raining!" he protested.

"Please, Gordon – I need to be alone for a bit."

He nodded reluctantly. "Be careful, my love," he said, and she repressed a slight shudder, choosing instead to smile at him.

"I will," she said, and gathering her coat and hat, went for a walk along the beach.

As she stepped onto the sand, even though it was October and quite cold out, she shed her shoes and stockings, carrying them as she walked along the beach.

She was so happy that Teddy was painting Jenny – in a few years she would be his lover. And while Jean was thrilled that her plans were unfolding properly, she couldn't help but feel slightly lost.

Yes, she had wanted Teddy to paint Jenny, but she knew that now he would no longer try to get her to return to the studio – that fact saddened her. And she knew that she was lost to him forever.

She shook herself out of her melancholy mood – she had got what she had wanted, after all – he was painting Jenny. But it was so hard for her to accept that his painting Jenny would mean that he would never paint her again, never want to paint her again.

It was her own fault – no, she wouldn't think like that – it wasn't her fault! If he hadn't left her that morning, the morning after they had made love... no, she wouldn't allow her thoughts to travel down that familiar road once more. Though some would say she was loose in her actions (and her morals), Jean was a very self-controlled person when it came to not believing things she did not want to. She would have her world ordered neatly, prettily, and not allow the messiness and ugliness of the real world to contaminate it.

The sun had set; it was time for her to return to Gordon. Slowly she began the walk back to Cramond – she could see a light in the window, could see his silhouette outlined by the light. Jean sighed and picked up her pace slightly, knowing that Gordon would soon come to fetch her if she didn't hurry.

She re-entered the house; Gordon was waiting for her in the living room, a glass of scotch in his hand. An open bottle sat on the coffee table. He looked up as she entered the room.

"I'm back, safe and sound," she said after several moments of uncomfortable silence. She had been slightly disconcerted to see the alcohol – he very rarely drank hard liquor.

"Good," he replied, swirling the ice in his glass.

"I'm just going to get changed," she said, edging towards the door. She left the room without another word, and he continued to swirl the ice in his glass.

He wished that they had never seen Sandy, wished that Jean had never found out that Teddy was painting Jenny's portrait. She had been so happy – happier than she had been since they returned from Italy, and, if he was being honest with himself, happier than she had been there, too. He sighed and drank deeply from his glass of scotch. She would never be his.

Fifteen minutes later, Jean rejoined Gordon in the living room. He was on his third glass of scotch.

"Gordon, stop it!" she exclaimed, taking the glass out of his hand. He glared at her and took it out of her hand, defiantly downing the alcohol. She picked up the bottle of scotch and put it back in the liquor cabinet before turning around to face him again.

"Give me back the bottle," he said, standing up and approaching her. Her back was against the liquor cabinet as he stood in front of her.

"Gordon..." she whimpered as he gripped her shoulders tightly, intending to move her away from the liquor cabinet. "You're hurting me!"

He dropped his hands, turning away from her. He rested one arm against the wall as Jean backed away from him and up the stairs. She gathered her things together and quietly stepped into the guest room.

She went to the bathroom to change for bed, noticing dark bruises on her shoulders. They were still visible after she slipped into her nightgown, as it was her sleeveless crêpe-de-Chine nightdress. Jean sighed. Her shoulders were already quite painful, and what she really wanted was a cup of tea, but she did not want to face Gordon again. She'd have to take care over the next few days not to lift anything heavy. Sighing, she slipped between the covers of the guest bed and fell asleep.

She was woken up a few hours later by the sound of Gordon entering her room.

"What is it?" she asked him groggily, stretching her arms. She winced as she felt her bruises protest at her sudden movement.

"I wanted to apologise – what's wrong?" he asked her, noticing her expression of discomfort. He reached over to turn on her bedside lamp, gasping when he saw her bruises. "Oh, Jean – did I do this?" She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He reached out and tenderly caressed her bruises. "Oh, my darling – how could I have done this to you?"

"You were drunk," she said.

"It's no excuse," he said, his voice full of self-castigation. Tears slipped down his face. "Oh, Jean, how could I have done this to you?" She began to cry as well, burying her face against his chest. He rocked her back and forth, stroking her hair soothingly as they both sobbed.

"You don't love me, do you, Gordon?" she asked him in between sobs. She was beginning to doubt his love for her, was beginning to doubt that he wanted to remain in a relationship with her – after all, in the early days of their relationship, he was so reluctant to touch her, let alone make love to her, he never would have hurt her.

"Oh, Jean, I do love you, I love you so much – too much, I think."

"Really, Gordon?" she asked him.

"Yes, darling, yes! Please believe me," he said. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I believe you," she whispered a few moments later.

He stroked her hair as she stayed in his arms, her breathing evening out as she rested in his embrace. Finally she fell asleep and he laid her back against the pillows, looking down at her. All he could see were the bruises that he had left on her porcelain skin.

How could he have harmed her? He would never, ever forgive himself for his actions.

She moaned in her sleep, rolling onto her stomach. "Gordon, stop!" she cried out. "Oh, darling, stop it, please! I love you; don't hurt me!"

"Oh, God," he groaned, burying his head in his hands. "What have I done?" She continued to whimper, tears running down her face.

"Oh, Jean," he whispered, stroking her hair. She flinched in her sleep and moved away from him. His heart shattered as he listened to her broken sobs and pleas for him to stop hurting her. He couldn't stay and listen to her, but he couldn't leave either. So he sat up with her, holding her hand, listening to her cry.

Relations between Jean and Gordon became very strained – their picnic with her girls was quite uncomfortable, as Jean was still uncomfortable around him, and because Gordon felt so guilty for having hurt her. Her girls noticed the tense atmosphere between their two teachers and made their excuses soon after their lunch was finished. After her girls had left, Gordon drove Jean back to her flat.

"Are we still spending next weekend together?" he asked her tentatively. She turned to him.

"Let's see how this week goes, hmm?" she replied. He laid his hand on her cheek.

"I love you, Jean," he whispered. She smiled sadly at him.

"And I love you, Gordon," she replied. "But let's see how things progress."

He nodded and leaned over to kiss her lips lightly. She returned his kiss. Pulling back, she bade him goodbye and climbed out of the car. He watched as she entered her flat before he drove away.

The next day, after school, Jean had Sandy over for tea.

"It's a painting of Mr. Lloyd's family," Sandy said while Jean was in the kitchen, preparing the scones. "It starts with himself and his wife and then all the children graded downwards to the baby and the dog on the floor. It's supposed to be funny... but the funniest part is, they all look like you," she finished just as Jean entered the room.

"Like me?" she asked, amazed.

"Yes," said Sandy. "Even the baby. Everybody he paints looks like you."

"Hmm," Jean said, smiling to herself as she set the scones and the butter down on the table. "You shall butter the scones, Sandy dear. Be generous." Sandy joined her at the table. "Uh, does the portrait of Jenny look like me?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," Sandy said, and Jean beamed. Perhaps Teddy did love her after all. "Mr. Lloyd might want to paint me too."

Jean chuckled slightly. "I doubt if having your portrait painted is going to be your career." She shivered. "Would you mind shutting the window, dear? There's a wee bit of a draft."

While Sandy walked to the window, Jean stood up to get a cardigan from the back of her chair. It was one of Gordon's cardigans, a light brown woollen one he had left at her flat a few weeks ago.

"What do you think it will be, Miss Brodie?" Sandy asked her, still standing at the window. She hadn't yet closed the window – she was trying to compose herself. She was jealous that Jean was so happy that Teddy's portraits looked like her. SHE wanted to be the one to make her happy.

"Uh, what do I think what will be?" Jean asked as she sat back down, still lost in her joy. She was so pleased that Teddy's paintings looked like her – oh, he did still love her!

"My career," Sandy said, somewhat impatiently.

"Well, you're quite intelligent, of course," Jean said. "Actually, Sandy, you have something more than mere intelligence. You have insight."

Sandy closed the window. "There goes Miss Lockhart."

"The chemistry teacher?"

"Yes. She's got her golf clubs." Sandy turned to face Jean. "Monica saw Mr. Lowther playing golf with Miss Lockhart... twice."

Jean's hands shook as she poured the tea. She was right – Gordon was falling out of love with her.

"Indeed?" Jean asked, trying to compose herself. Heather Lockhart was smart, conservative, and certainly someone who would attract Gordon. She was worried, very worried, that he would leave her for Heather. "Well, I know very little of Miss, uh, Lockhart. I leave her to her jars and gases. We were talking about your insight, Sandy," Jean continued as Sandy rejoined her. "You do have insight, and Jenny... Jenny has got instinct," Jean said, clasping her hands together. "Jenny will be a great lover. She's like a heroine from a novel by Mr. D.H. Lawrence. The common moral code will not apply to her. She will be above it. This is a fact which only someone with your insight should know about." Sandy stared at her as Jean poured another cup of tea. "You know, Sandy, you would make an excellent secret service agent... a great spy." She looked at Sandy, who was still staring at her. "Sandy, you must try not to peer at people. It makes a most rude impression."

"Why do you think I would make a good spy, Miss Brodie?"

"Well, because you are intelligent, and not... emotional," she replied. "I've observed this constraint in you. It has, from time to time, distressed me, as I myself am a deeply emotional woman. I feel many things... passionately," she finished.

"I feel things, Miss Brodie," Sandy replied, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, everybody does, of course," Jean replied. "It's simply a matter of degree. Actually, passion would be a great handicap to a spy."

"It would?" Sandy asked sceptically.

"Definitely," Jean confirmed.

"What did you mean when you said that, uh... Jenny was above the common moral code?"

"Oh, simply that it will not apply to her. She is the exception... and we can help Jenny to realise this. Oh, Sandy, dear, I forgot the hot water," Jean said. She really hadn't forgot the hot water – she had not been able to lift the heavy kettle to pour it into the teapot.

"I'll get it," Sandy said, a bit exasperated.

"Thank you, dear," Jean replied.

Sandy stopped halfway to the kitchen, peering into the mirror. "Miss Brodie, how do you think that we can help Jenny?"

"We can encourage her, give her confidence."

"Confidence for what?"

"For when she is eighteen. With a girl like Jenny... perhaps even seventeen. Soon she will... know love. Do you understand that, Sandy?" Jean asked, half-turning to look at her.

"You mean she'll have affairs – love affairs."

"Oh, Sandy, you do have insight," Jean sighed happily. "I am never wrong. I can always depend on you."

The week passed slowly. Gordon was so quiet, barely speaking at all, let alone to her. He looked at her so tentatively, not wanting to harm her again. At the end of the week, she pulled him aside after lunch.

"I'd like to spend the weekend with you, Gordon," she said.

"Really, Jean?" he asked her, his eyes lighting up with hope.

"Really, Gordon," she said.

"Oh, darling," he whispered, caressing her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, Gordon," she replied. "I'll see you at five, hmm?" He nodded as she gave him one last smile before walking down the hallway to her classroom.

At five o'clock exactly Gordon pressed her doorbell. She opened the door a few moments later.

"Hello, Gordon," Jean said. She was holding her bag, which he took out of her hand. She granted him a lovely smile. Locking the door behind them, they walked down to his car.

He was so thrilled that she had agreed to spend the weekend with him, despite the events of last week, and he couldn't help but smile at her. She returned his smile, albeit a bit tentatively. He caught her hand up in his and placed a gentle kiss on its back. Her shy smile grew a bit wider.

A half an hour later they arrived at Cramond. He helped her out of the car and carried her bag up to the house. She tucked her arm in his and rested her head against his shoulder as they entered his house.

"I'll make some tea," Jean said, entering the kitchen. He brought her bag upstairs and then joined her in the kitchen. She had set the table for tea and had just finished with the tea. They settled down quietly, Gordon timidly taking her hand in his. She allowed him to hold her hand in his, even granting him a smile as they quietly sipped their tea. As he held her hand, she couldn't help but think that he might've held Heather Lockhart's hand this same way.

"What would you like for dinner, dear?" he asked her, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"I'm not very hungry," she said. "Sandwiches, perhaps?" He nodded. "I'm going to go upstairs and freshen up."

"I'll start on dinner," he replied, and she nodded, walking upstairs to his bedroom. She came downstairs a half an hour later; their dinner was ready and he had set the dining room table, though they were having simple sandwiches. They ate quietly, not making conversation, and afterwards they cleaned up.

"Let's go to bed, hmm?" she suggested.

"Really?" he asked.

"If you'd like," Jean said, stretching up to kiss him. He returned her kiss shyly, even more so than the first time they'd kissed. "What's wrong?" she asked when he broke the kiss.

"Are you sure, Jean – I mean, after last weekend..." she cut him off.

"Yes, Gordon, I'm sure. I know that you didn't mean to hurt me, and I forgive you. Now, let's go to bed," she said, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs.

Once they reached his bedroom he closed the door behind him. She stepped into his embrace, encouraging him to wrap his arms around her waist. Jean tilted her head up, her lips parted in waiting for his kiss. He obliged her, bending down to meet her lips with his. She twined her arms around his neck, stepping further into his embrace, smiling against his lips as his hands slipped lower, pulling her even closer. He began to unbutton her dress, his lips leaving hers and travelling down her neck. Gordon lingered there, his lips hovering above her pulse point. He smiled as he felt her pulse race.

"Oh, Jean, I love you," he whispered as she stepped out of her dress.

She smiled up at him. "I love you too." He didn't reply; he was staring at her shoulders.

"They're still there," he whispered, his eyes fixed on her bruises. They were still there, though they were fading, and the worst part was that they were in the shape of his handprints. She looked down at her bruises, then up at Gordon.

"They're nearly gone, Gordon," she said. "Don't let's think about them."

"Jean, how can I not?" he asked. "I can see them."

"Then turn off the lights," Jean whispered.

"Jean, I can't – I just can't," he said, looking down at the floor. She stepped closer to him.

"Gordon..." she whispered, tilting his chin so that she could look into his eyes. "I forgive you. I love you. Please, make love to me." He looked into her eyes and bent down to scoop her up into his arms. He brought her to his bed, gently laying her on top of the covers. She shed her undergarments as he undressed, and when they were both naked, she turned off the lights. Once again he took her into his arms, kissing her softly, tenderly. She returned his kisses gently, deepening them as she felt his erection growing firm against her abdomen. Wrapping one leg around his hips, she allowed him to roll her onto her back, kissing him all the while.

He broke out of the kiss, pulling back from her. "Jean, I can't," he said again.

"Gordon, please," she whispered. "Please make love to me."

He shook his head, looking away from her. She knew that she would have to take matters into her own hands. Kissing him again, she rolled him onto his back, straddling him. She lowered herself onto him, moaning as he filled her.

"Oh, Gordon!" she moaned. Despite himself, he rolled her onto her back once again and began moving within her. She smiled as they moved together, slowly building up to their simultaneous climax. Finally they came, their passions unfolding in concert. She cried out his name, he cried hers, and they collapsed, sweaty and sated, in each other's arms.

He kissed her shoulder lightly, his lips caressing the place where his hands had marked her.

"I love you, Jean," he said softly, looking up at her. She caressed his cheek lightly.

"I know you do, Gordon," she replied. "And I love you – I really, truly do."

He felt guilty in that moment, guilty for spending time with Heather Lockhart. They had much in common, unlike him and Jean, and she was nearly as beautiful as Jean was. He didn't love her, but he suspected that, if he continued to pursue Heather, he would grow to love her. He didn't know what to do – he enjoyed spending time with Heather, but he loved Jean, loved her so much. He looked down at the woman in his arms and saw that she was asleep.

"Mmm, Teddy," she whispered in her sleep.

He sighed sadly. Heather was the right choice, he knew she was the right choice, but it would take some time to get used to the idea. And he didn't want to end his relationship with Jean – he loved her so much.

She moved closer to him in her sleep and whispered again – and this time, it was his name.

He smiled and kissed her lightly on the forehead, his heart filled to bursting with the love he felt for the woman in his arms.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

* * *

As always, dedicated to kissofdeath, KristaMarie, micha, and tabbyhearts.

* * *

Jean woke up first the next morning, looking down at her sleeping lover. She smiled softly – she never felt more tenderly towards him than when he was sleeping. Jean caressed his hair lightly, kissing his forehead, as he continued to sleep. Oh, but he was adorable! He began to stir, opening his eyes.

"Good morning, darling," he whispered, taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss on her palm.

"Good morning, Gordon," she replied, kissing his lips. He smiled at her, pulling her into his arms, and rolled her onto her back. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down for a kiss. He continued to kiss her gently, tentatively, finally entering her. They moved together slowly, softly, and afterwards lay in each other's arms.

"I do love you, Jean," Gordon said, kissing her hair lightly.

"I know you do," she replied. "And I love you."

He smiled down at her, tilting her chin up so that he could place a gentle kiss on her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and they began all over again...

***

The rest of the year passed uneventfully, though Gordon still felt guilty for hurting Jean. He began playing golf with Heather Lockhart during the weekends that he and Jean did not spend together in an attempt to distance himself from her – he was terrified that he would hurt her again. He stopped spending time with her on Saturdays, instead confining their liaisons to Sunday afternoons and evenings. He spent his time on Saturdays with Heather Lockhart, beginning to court her in earnest.

On his birthday, which once again fell over their Easter break, Jean had arranged for them to travel to London for the week. Once again they stayed at the Savoy Hotel, in quite a nice suite. She had made quite a large effort to love him, make him happy during his birthday week – an effort that was not appreciated. He couldn't enjoy the love that she showered upon him, as he felt so guilty for spending so much time with Heather Lockhart.

She noticed.

"Gordon, what's wrong?" she asked him on the third night of their vacation, the day after his birthday. "You've been so withdrawn lately."

"Nothing's wrong, dear," he said, looking away from her.

"Gordon, you don't even call me darling anymore," she whispered softly. "You don't love me anymore, dearest, do you?"

He closed his eyes. "I do love you, Jean," he whispered. "I love you with all my heart."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I don't know," he lied. She turned in his arms to look up at him, her hair shining dimly in the soft light.

"I love you, Gordon," she said, "no matter when it might seem to the contrary. I do love you – I do."

He gave her a sad smile, bending down slightly to kiss her lips.

"Good night, Jean," he said, still not calling her 'darling'.

She sighed sadly. "Good night, my darling." His heart gave a painful twinge as she snuggled up close to him, resting her head against his chest.

He couldn't continue with this charade any longer, he decided. He would have to break it off with Jean, but not yet. Not yet... He didn't have enough courage to tell her; he would have to pull back from her slowly.

***

After their Easter break, things changed irrevocably. The Friday after they returned, Miss Mackay entered.

"Your class is dismissed," she said, and the girls looked around in shock. "You are all to go to outside for the rest of the period." His students gathered up their things as Gordon looked at Miss Mackay in shock. "I would like you to fetch Miss Brodie and meet me in my office as soon as possible," Miss Mackay said, brushing past Gordon. Gordon stood there in shock for a few moments before running down the hallway to Jean's classroom.

She was in the middle of an impassioned lecture to her girls.

"Little girls, you must all learn to cultivate an expression of composure. It is one of the greatest assets of a woman – an expression of composure, come foul, come fair. Regard the Mona Lisa," she said, unrolling the print. She showed it to her students. "She is older than the rocks on which she sits. Whom did I say to regard – Clara?" she turned to the red-haired girl who reminded her so much of her beloved Jenny.

"The Mona Lisa, Miss Brodie," Clara replied.

"That is correct," said Jean, smiling, "Clara has artistic tendencies." She laughed along with her girls.

"Little girls, I am in the business of putting old heads on young shoulders, and all my pupils are the crème de la crème," she waved her arm in a sweeping gesture as if to embrace her pupils. As she began to pin the Mona Lisa to the wall, her lover burst in, frantic.

"Jean!" he cried, coming over to her, "Oh, Jean!"

"Mr. Lowther!" she exclaimed, startled.

"Jean... uh... Miss Brodie. Miss Mackay. I've just left – I don't know what to do..." he stammered.

"Did you wish to speak to me about something?" she asked him, forcefully guiding him out of her classroom. She shut the door behind them. "What can you be up to, Gordon? Such a display in front of the children!"

"It's Miss Mackay – she's dismissed my class! She's found something terrible! Something incriminating! She demands to see us both together immediately! Immediately," he repeated, softer.

"I am not accustomed to being summoned immediately – not by anyone," she snapped. She turned back to her door and began to open it.

"But, Jean, she sent me to get you! She said now!"

"Please!" she exclaimed, frustrated. He never could deal with panic well. "Pull yourself together, Gordon. I promise I won't let Miss Mackay stand you in the corner," she said sarcastically. Stricken with remorse, she rested her hands lightly on his chest. "Just you wait there a minute." She entered her classroom, indicating for him to wait through the window.

She returned to her portrait of the Mona Lisa, tacking it up on the back wall, before turning to her girls.

"Well, your headmistress, Miss Mackay, wishes to see me for a few minutes. She has a wee problem she wishes to discuss with me. Now, what subject were we doing?" she asked, ruffling her hair.

"History, Miss Brodie," her girls chimed.

"Oh, yes. Open your history books. While I'm away from the room, you will all read the chapter on the succession of the Stuarts. You will sit quietly in your seats and remain composed, like the Mona Lisa," she said, indicating the portrait on the wall. She exited the classroom, joining Gordon, and they walked to Miss Mackay's office.

Before entering Miss Mackay's outer office, Jean turned to Gordon.

"Don't worry, darling," she said, her voice low. "Everything will be fine."

He smiled nervously at her and they entered Miss Mackay's office. Jean rapped sharply on the door, and Miss Mackay opened it.

"Miss Brodie, Mr. Lowther," the headmistress said, the triumph in her voice barely restrained. Jean smiled, rising to the occasion, and stepped past Miss Mackay, standing in front of her desk. Gordon stood behind her, and Miss Mackay walked behind her desk, seating herself. She produced a piece of paper.

"Miss Brodie, do you know what this is?" Miss Mackay asked, brandishing the sheet of paper.

Jean looked at it. "It would appear to be a piece of blue paper with writing on it in pencil."

Miss Mackay glared at her. "It is, in fact, a letter. It was found by Miss Mackenzie in a library book. She glanced at it, but after the first sentence, she dared not actually read it. She brought it instantly to me.

"Yes. Is it addressed to you?" Jean asked.

"No, Miss Brodie. It is addressed to Mr. Lowther…" Jean glanced backwards to Gordon, who was looking at her, frightened, "but it is signed by you." Jean knew that it could not be any of the letters she had written to Gordon, unless he was stupid enough to bring her letters to Marcia Blaine. And she didn't believe that he was stupid. "I shall begin," Miss Mackay said.

"Oh, please do," Jean said, sitting down and leaning forward.

Miss Mackay looked at the two teachers over the letter. "Of course, I realise it is a forgery – just the work of a child." She cleared her throat and began.

"My dear, delightful Gordon,  
Your letter has moved me deeply, as you may imagine. But, alas, I must ever decline to be Mrs. Lowther. My reasons are twofold. I am dedicated to my girls, as is Madame Pavlova, and there is another in my life." Jean felt her heart flutter worriedly, a concern that was justified in the letter's next line. "He is Teddy Lloyd." Jean was grateful that she was able to remain composed, though it was quite a struggle. She felt Gordon's eyes upon her, and took great care not to give anything away. "Intimacy has never taken place with him. He is married to another." Well, that wasn't true, Jean thought. They had had that one night, that one marvellous night... she must remain composed. "We are not lovers but we know the truth. However, I was proud of giving myself to you when you came and took me in the bracken, while the storm raged about us." Miss Mackay looked disapprovingly at Jean over the top of the letter. Jean tried valiantly to suppress the bubble of laughter that had risen in her throat. "If I am in a certain condition, I shall place the infant in the care of a worthy shepherd and his wife. I may permit misconduct to occur again from time to time as an outlet... because I am in my prime. We can also have many a... breezy day in the fishing boat at sea." Jean was biting the inside of her cheek to stop the laughter from bursting out. "We must keep a sharp lookout for Miss Mackay, however, as she is rather narrow, which arises from an ignorance of culture and the Italian scene. I love to hear you singing 'Hey Johnny Cope', but were I to receive a proposal of marriage tomorrow from the Lord Lyon, King-of-Arms, I would decline it. Allow me, in conclusion, to congratulate you warmly on your sexual intercourse, as well as your singing.

With fondest joy,  
Jean Brodie."

Miss Mackay handed the letter to Jean. "Is this what your girls – your set – has learned under your auspices, Miss Brodie?" Miss Mackay asked angrily.

Jean took the letter, recognising the handwriting as Sandy and Jenny's. "It's a literary collaboration. Two separate hands are involved. One of the authors slants her tail consonants in an unorthodox manner and the other does not. Also, the paper seems somewhat aged." She handed the letter back to Miss Mackay, which she took angrily.

"Is that all you have to say?"

Jean shrugged. "What else is there to say? Two little girls at the age of budding sexual... fantasy have concocted a romance for themselves. They've chosen me as a romantic symbol. Is that so surprising?"

"Do you deny that you encourage these fantasies, as you call them? Do you deny that by consorting openly with Mr. Lowther of Cramond, you lead these poor children into the most fevered conclusions? Not only Mr. Lowther, but Mr. Lloyd is brought into the circle of fire. Mr. Lloyd! who has a wife and... six children." Jean could see Miss Mackay doing rapid calculations in her head. "It is diabolic that infants should be knowledgeable..."

"Twelve-year-old girls are not infants, Miss Mackay," Jean said.

"How do you know they're twelve years old?"

"From the handwriting, the vocabulary, the rudimentary knowledge of the facts of life. Oh, surely you cannot believe that that is the work of nine-year-olds?"

"I could believe it was the work of your nine-year-olds, Miss Brodie."

"There's very little for me to say, Miss Mackay, in the face of your extraordinary prejudice and hostility." Jean stood and began walking to the door, turning when Miss Mackay spoke again.

"Miss Brodie, I am not asking you to say anything. I am asking – demanding – that you put your signature – your own signature – on a letter of resignation which I have prepared for you." The headmistress rang the bell so conveniently placed on her desk; a few moments later the rather ugly Miss Gaunt scurried into the office, handing Miss Mackay a letter. She scurried out again after giving Jean a rather superior glance.

"I will not resign," Jean said, calmly, firmly.

"You will not resign. You will force me to dismiss you."

"I will not resign, and you will not dismiss me, Miss Mackay. You will not use the excuse of that pathetic – that humorous document to blackmail me!" Jean felt her anger bubbling to the surface and turned to Gordon. "Mr. Lowther, you are a witness to this. Miss Mackay has made totally unsupported accusations against my name and yours. If she has one authentic shred of evidence, just one, let her bring it forth! Otherwise, if one more word of this outrageous calumny reaches my ears, I shall sue! I shall take Miss Mackay to the public courts and I shall sue the trustees of Marcia Blaine if they support her. I will not stand quietly by and allow myself to be crucified by a woman whose fetid frustration has overcome her judgement! If scandal is to your taste, Miss Mackay, I shall give you a feast!"

"Miss Brodie!" Miss Mackay exclaimed, standing up.

Jean approached her desk, a note of desperation entering her voice. "I am a teacher! I am a teacher, first, last, always! Do you imagine that for one instant I will let that be taken from me without a fight? I have dedicated, sacrificed my life to this profession. And I will not stand by like an inky little slacker and watch you rob me of it – and for what? For what reason? For jealousy! Because I have the gift of claiming girls for my own. It is true, I am a strong influence on my girls. I am proud of it! I influence them to be aware of all the possibilities of life... of beauty, honour, courage! I do not, Miss Mackay, influence them to look for slime where it does not exist! I am going," she finished, beginning to walk to the door. She stopped halfway there to face Miss Mackay again. "When my class convenes my pupils will find me composed and prepared to reveal to them the succession of the Stuarts." She finished her walk to the door and opened it, pausing once again to add, "And on Sunday, I will go to Cramond to visit Mr. Lowther. We are accustomed, bachelor and spinster, to spend our Sundays together in sailing and walking the beaches and in the pursuit of music. Mr. Lowther is teaching me to play the mandolin. Good day, Miss Mackay!" she slammed the door behind her.

She fled to the staff room, standing at the window, apparently looking outside, though she was not focussed on the scenery. There were tears in her eyes that threatened to cascade down any moment. Oh, why did this have to happen? Everything was falling apart...

"Jean!" she heard Gordon call. He closed the door. "Jean, you were heroic, heroic!" She ignored him. "Oh, to see you like that, it was really inspiring. If only I could have stood up like that to Mr. Gaunt, if I said 'Look here, Mr. Gaunt, if you have one authentic shred of evidence, just one...'" she cut him off, turning around to face him, confused and angry.

"What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Gaunt called to see me the night before last," Gordon explained. "He advised me to resign as organist and elder of the church. He spoke very plainly."

"And what did you answer?"

He was embarrassed, but responded simply,"I resigned."

"And you allowed this evil-minded man – a man who uses his position as Deacon of the Kirk! – to received the slanderous gossip of petty provincials." She turned away from him again.

"But Jean, it isn't just gossip." He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "you do not go home on Sunday nights."

She turned around. "They had no proof! None whatever. You should have refused point-blank to resign. Can't you see resignation is tantamount to a confession of guilt?" her voice grew desperate in her effort to make him understand.

"But I feel guilty," he said.

"Well, I do not!" she cried, moving to the middle of the room.

"Och, Jean, will you not marry me and put an end to all this sneaking about? Why won't you marry me?"

She turned to face him. "Only yesterday, it was told to my face that you are planning to marry the chemistry teacher!" It was true, Sandy had once again mentioned that there was a rumour going around school that Gordon had proposed to Heather Lockhart.

Gordon blushed – it was true, he was planning to marry Heather, but he hadn't thought that other people had known about it. "Oh, I... I played golf with Miss Lockhart once," he lied.

"Twice."

"Twice?"

"Beware. Don't trifle with her. She has the means to blow us all up," Jean said sarcastically.

"Now, don't tease me, Jean. Miss Lockhart means nothing to me," he lied again. She glared at him. "You know that all I care about it you," she turned away from him, "all I want is to see you happy and safe." He walked around her so that he could look into her eyes. "I don't understand you, Jean," he said in a whisper, "You will not marry me, and yet you feed me and share my bed."

"'Share your bed!' Why can't you say you are my lover?" she cried out, her voice passionate, desperate.

"I do not want to be your lover!" he cried, then checked himself, "I want to be your husband. I want to go on my honeymoon to the isle of Eigg near Rum where my mother and father went on their honeymoon and I want to come back to Cramond with my bride – that's what I want," he declared, his frustration with their situation finally bubbling over. He moved to the door, turning before he left. "And I want to conduct the church choir too."

She stood there, tears streaming down her face. Things were falling apart – everything, everything, EVERYTHING was falling apart.

Jean composed herself, well, as much as she could, and rushed up the stairs to her classroom. She allowed herself to sag against the door for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she began to set up her projector to show her slides – she felt that it would be easier for the last half of the day if the lights were off and none of her students could see her cry. She was standing on a chair, plugging the projector into the light, when Teddy entered.

"Rumours are flying. Are you out?"

She forced herself to smile.

"Hmph! On the contrary, Miss Mackay experienced the utmost difficultly in persuading me to stay," she lied.

"How I wish I might have heard her plea," he said, laughing, knowing she was lying.

"The utmost difficulty. You've been painting Jenny," she said, her voice taking on a dreamy quality as she thought of something happy, something wonderful.

"Yes, that's right," Teddy said.

"I am glad, very glad," she said. "She gets more beautiful each year, she quite amazes me. You see it too, you're an artist. You see things other men don't see – you must see it."

"Jenny's quite a pretty girl," Teddy said, confusion lacing his tone.

She turned to him. "Pretty? No, no. It's much more than that. She has extraordinary physical instincts... primitive and free."

"Primitive? Little Jenny? What are you up to, Jean?" he asked her, knowing that something was going on in her mind.

"I'm only trying to tell you I've always felt that Jenny could be magnificently elevated above the ordinary rung of lovers," she said calmly.

"What are you talking about?" he asked her.

"It's just that I've always known that one day, you would... paint... Jenny."

"Paint Jenny?" he asked her. "Jean, I think you're quite aware of what you're doing. You're trying to put that child in my bed in your place."

Her heart thrilled at the words 'your place', but less than a second later she realised what he had said. "Don't be disgusting!" she snapped, her voice filled with horror. She tried to move away from him but he grasped her arms, stopping her.

"It's only the words that disgust you! You don't boggle at the thought, do you?" he asked her. "You'll accept anything, anything but reality! Trying to use Jenny and poor old Lowther, making him play house."

She wrenched her arms out of his grasp and moved towards the back of the classroom. "I do not use Mr. Lowther; it is I who allow myself to be used." She picked up the box containing her slides. She shuffled through them. "I give him every attention. I cook for him."

"You feed him instead of loving him, isn't that it?"

She set the slides down forcefully and approached him. "You know nothing about what there is of love between Gordon and me!" she declared.

"Oh, my God! All those boring hours in bed with old Lowther, puffing bravely away!"

She slapped him, then turned away, beginning to cry.

"Good. That's more like it. That was direct." The bell rang in the hallway as he approached her. She could feel the warmth of his body against hers, the closest they had been for three years, which, indeed, he said next. "That's the first actual contact between us in three years."

"Get out! Get out! Get out of my class!" she cried, turning. "My girls..." she trailed off as her students entered the classroom. She moved to the front of the classroom, setting her box of slides down on her desk so that she could press the back of her hand to her forehead in an effort to remain calm. She turned. "Little girls, this is Mr. Lloyd, the art master. When you are fourteen, if he is still at Marcia Blaine, I will then hand you over to him, and you will be fortunate enough to receive his artistic guidance.

He was smiling smugly. "Goodbye, girls."

"Goodbye, Mr. Lloyd," they said.

"See you in three years." He paused with his hand on the door. "Goodbye, Miss Brodie. I also hope I shall see you."

Her girls looked at her curiously as he left the room. She stared back at them defiantly, then picked up the box of slides.

"For the rest of the afternoon I have decided we will not do more history." Her girls murmured to themselves. "Rather, I will show you some more slides of my last holidays in Italy. Monitors, the blinds, please," she said, "Clara, will you pull down the screen?" The girl did as she was asked. "I also spent two weeks in Egypt where people do not believe in God, but in Allah. Katherine, will you switch on the light, please? The bottom left-hand side?" The girl did. "I have brought you these slides at my own expense. The girls in the back may sit up on their desks," she said, turning on the projector and loading the slide.

"Rome," she began, "this is a large formation of Il Duce's fascisti. They are following him in noble destiny. I, myself, mingled with such a crowd. I wore my silk dress with the red poppies which is right for my colouring." She moved to the next slide.

"Benito Mussolini. Il Duce. Italy's leader supreme. A Roman worthy of his heritage, the greatest Roman of them all."

"The Coliseum, where Christian slaves were thrown to the lions and gladiators fought to the death. '___Ave Imperator; Morituri te Salutant!' 'Hail, Caesar! Those who are about to die salute thee!'" _

"Florence. The David of Michelangelo. That is the original David. He is in the Galleria dell'Accademia di Belli Arti. There's a copy in the Piazza della Signoria, next to the Palazzo Vecchio. He's there for any passerby to gaze upon and be uplifted. He's at once the glory of the past and the inspiration of the future. David, the young warrior."

She switched to the next slide.

"This is a picture of the Ponte Vecchio. 'The old bridge', Ponte Vecchio. There's a famous painting of Dante meeting Beatrice. It is pronounced 'Beatrichay' in Italian, which makes it very beautiful. Meeting Beatrichay on the Ponte Vecchio. He fell in love with her at that moment." Her mind began to wander, thinking of Jenny and Teddy and herself. "He was a man in his middle years, she was fourteen. That can happen. A mature man can find love in a young girl, a very young girl. Find the spring... the essence of all old loves. It is not unlikely that... we shall never know... that Beatrichay reminded Dante sharply in that moment when he first saw her on the Ponte Vecchio... of an old love. A lost love, a sublime love... and he was seized with such a longing... such longing..." She looked around and saw her girls looking at her. She pulled herself together. "That picture was painted by Rossetti. Who was Dante Gabriel Rossetti? Jenny, who was Dante Gabriel Rossetti?" Tears were in her eyes and she blinked to clear her vision.

"Clara," she said, realising that Jenny was no longer in her class.

"A painter, Miss Brodie," the girl said.

"What... what was that you said?" Jean asked.

"A painter," Clara repeated.

"Yes. Yes, a painter." She covered her eyes with her hand. "Oh, yes. A paint... a painter." She began to cry. "Class dismissed," she choked out, and waited until her girls had left to collapse in a sobbing heap on the ground.

Nearly an hour later, she picked herself up and gathered her things together. She walked her bicycle back to her apartment, as she knew she was unable to ride it back to her flat. Finally reaching her home, she drew a bath, willing the tears not to come. It didn't matter; they slipped down her cheeks anyway.

Why, why was this happening to her? Was it because she didn't love Gordon enough; was it because she was in love with a married man, and slept with him? She sank down lower in her bathtub, allowing the tears fall.

Finally she emerged from the tub and dried herself off before making a cup of tea, which she brought to her bed. She sat there, staring into nothingness, letting the tea grow cold. She couldn't go back to Marcia Blaine tomorrow, but she had to. Oh, why did it have to be Monday, only Monday? She still had to get through the rest of the week. And she couldn't call in sick tomorrow, she couldn't let Miss Mackay think that she beat her. Because she didn't – it was Teddy who had beaten her, not Miss Mackay. Miss Mackay would never beat her.

But Teddy could. He always could, because he held her heart.

So she cried, and cried, and cried.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

***

As always, dedicated to kissofdeath, KristaMarie, micha, and tabbyhearts.

Parts of the letter are absconded from a letter written by Dame Edith Evans to Sir Michael Redgrave.

The very last chapter. Thank you so much for all your reviews, and I hope you enjoy!

***

Her heart ached desperately, sharply, for several weeks. Gordon had avoided her, not knowing what to say after his outburst. Perhaps it was for the best, he decided. Perhaps they should not begin seeing each other again. But he couldn't help himself – he loved her, couldn't get enough of her. So, after a month of weekends spent with Heather Lockhart rather that Jean, he approached her after school on Wednesday.

"Jean," he began nervously, "I was wondering if you'd care to come to Cramond this weekend."

She looked up at him. "Really, Gordon?"

"Really, Jean. That is, if you'd like..." he trailed off as she took his hand.

"I would enjoy that," she said. "When will you pick me up?"

He smiled down at her. "Friday evening?"

"Friday evening," she agreed, and, looking around, stretched up to kiss him lightly. Automatically he wrapped his arms around her waist and deepened the kiss, but she pulled back a few moments later. "We mustn't get caught," she whispered. He nodded.

"I can't wait until Friday," he said quietly, and she smiled.

"Nor can I."

Three days later, he arrived at her flat to pick her up for the weekend, just like old times. She had missed him. They walked out to his car in silence, Jean slipped her hand in Gordon's. He squeezed her hand lightly.

When they arrived at Cramond, Gordon brought her suitcase upstairs while Jean busied herself in the kitchen preparing their dinner.

They sat down to supper and Jean smiled across the table at her lover. She was so pleased to be with him again, despite the fact that she loved Teddy more. But she did enjoy spending time with Gordon.

After their dinner, which they cleaned up together, Jean stretched up to kiss him.

"Oh, Gordon, I've missed you these past weeks," she whispered. "I'm sorry, so sorry for my outburst." She rested her head against his shoulder, allowing herself a small, contented smile as he stroked her hair.

"It's all right," he soothed, holding her close. "Oh, Jean, it's all right."

She looked up at him and he looked down at her, both of them poised in the moment before their kiss. Tentatively, he raised his hand to her face, running his thumb along the fine line of her cheekbone.

"I love you, Gordon."

"Jean," he whispered, and bent down to kiss her. She rested her hands on his chest and deepened the kiss.

"Mmm..." she moaned softly, stepping closer to Gordon. She felt herself becoming aroused – it had been nearly a month, after all, since they had made love, and she had needed him. He had needed her too, as was made increasingly clear to both of them as they continued to kiss.

They finally broke apart and she looked up at him, her cheeks flushed, her lips deep red from kissing him, her eyes dark. He felt an incredible surge of desire as he looked down at his lover – how could he have ever considered leaving her?

"Oh, darling," he whispered, and she beamed at him. He hadn't called her 'darling' for so long, so, so long...

"Gordon," she replied, wrapping her arms around him. "Oh, my love..."

He kissed her again, and again, and still again, pushing her against the wall. She moaned again, clutching his back as he kissed her neck.

"Gordon, take me now, now!" she moaned, unbuttoning his trousers. "Oh, darling, yes, please!"

He pushed up the skirts of her dress and pulled down her knickers, pressing his erection against her. She was so ready for him, and he for her, that they didn't bother to take their time with each other. Pushing into her once, twice, three times, they climaxed and collapsed in a heap on the ground.

"Mmm, my love," she whispered, absolutely content in that moment, happy to be back in his arms.

"Jean, darling," he whispered, kissing her neck lightly.

"I do love you," she whispered softly.

He smiled. "I love you, too."

"Let's go upstairs, hmm?" she suggested, and he nodded. They stood up, gathered their things together, and walked up the stairs to his bedroom.

"I'm going to take a shower, Jean," Gordon said.

She nodded. "I'll be in bed." He gave her a light, affectionate kiss on her forehead and stepped into his bathroom. She slipped between the sheets of his bed and rested her head on the pillow. Stretching out, she accidentally knocked a pillow on his side off the bed. She climbed out of bed and picked it up; as she placed it back on the bed, a letter on his sheets caught her eye. She opened the letter and began to read it.

"Dear Gordon," it began in an unfamiliar hand, "I so enjoyed playing golf with you this past weekend. I hope it does not seem too forward of me, but I thought that you ought to know that I can think of nothing more enjoyable than spending my leisure time with you. I am so pleased that it seems that you, too, enjoy the time we spend together. I am anxiously awaiting the next weekend we are able to spend together.  
With great affection,  
Heather."

Jean set the letter down, her hands shaking. He was courting Heather Lockhart, she knew that for certain now. Carefully replacing the letter beneath his pillow, she turned back to her side of the bed and closed her eyes, hoping to prevent tears from falling. She heard the water shut off and, a few moments later, her lover emerged from the bathroom. She feigned sleep, knowing that she wouldn't be able to talk to him without crying. Jean heard him walk softly over to her, felt him tenderly kiss her forehead. He then walked to the other side of the bed and crawled between the covers. As he moved his pillow, he felt the letter from Heather beneath it. He hoped that Jean had not found it. He didn't think she did – she would have mentioned it, he believed, if she had seen it.

He tucked the letter in his nightstand and turned off the light. He wrapped his arms around her, sighing happily as her weight settled against him. How could he consider making a life with Heather when Jean was so wonderful?

She was still awake, still in a state of panic about the letter she had just read. How could he do this to her? How could he want to leave her, after all the times he had professed his deep and undying love for her?

It was May 25th, 1935, and her world had all but come to an end.

***

The school year ended and Gordon had once again invited Jean to spend the summer with him. She accepted.

Though he had invited her to spend the summer with him, he didn't make an effort to have her enjoy herself as he had in years previous. Her birthday, for instance, was passed in quite a lacklustre style this year, with no tickets to exotic locations for their summer holidays. She was disappointed but tried not to show it – she knew that he wanted to spend the summer with Heather.

***

"I've bought us tickets for Italy," she said a few days after her birthday. His face fell slightly. "Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all," he lied. In reality, he had been looking forward to remaining in Edinburgh and seeing Heather, perhaps playing golf with her...

"I'm afraid that I couldn't afford for us to stay in luxury hotels like last time," she said apologetically. "But I have managed to afford first-class tickets on the Orient Express, and have reserved rooms for us at a lovely _pensione_ in Florence. I used to stay there when I went to Italy by myself. I hope you'll like it. I know it won't be what you're used to, but it was all I could afford. I'm sorry, Gordon," she apologised, knowing her apology would make him love her more.

Indeed, he did smile, caressing her cheek lightly. "I'm sure it will be fine, Jean," he said.

"I hope so, my dear," she replied. "I know that you're used to the fine things in life..."

"Jean, darling," she smiled at him, "It will be all right, I'm sure."

She snuggled close to him. "I do love you, Gordon," she whispered.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head lightly.

"I love you, too."

As he absentmindedly stroked her hair, she wondered how much longer he would love her. Already he was straying from her. If they were to get engaged, then maybe he'd abandon Heather... she'd have to seriously consider that option. She couldn't lose him, not when she had no one else...

***

They left for Italy ten days later. Gordon told Heather that he was going abroad with a friend who had purchased the tickets as a surprise. She was quite disappointed, but had accepted his excuse without question.

"I'll miss you, Heather," he said.

"And I'll miss you, Gordon," she replied. They were in her flat.

He moved closer to her. "Heather, I think – I think I'm falling in love with you."

She smiled softly at him. "I am falling in love with you as well," she whispered, resting her hands lightly on his chest. He bent down and kissed her – their first kiss.

Kissing her was not like kissing Jean. Jean was passionate even when she kissed him gently, while Heather was timid. It wasn't unpleasant, he decided as they broke apart, just different.

"I'll write to you, Heather dear," he said, stroking her cheek lightly.

"I'm glad," she said. "I'll miss you, Gordon."

"And I'll miss you."

He stayed with her for the rest of the afternoon. They talked quietly about things that had been and things to be in their relationship.

He was comfortable with her, he knew where he stood, unlike with Jean. She was such a complicated woman...

Heather was simple. She would want to settle down with him, marry him, have children with him. Jean did not – she wanted to teach. And while teaching was an admirable profession, he wished that she could see that being a mother was just as good.

He finally left Heather's house just as the sun began to set. Driving back to Cramond, he wondered what kind of excuse he could give Jean for his absence. He'd just say he was arranging a few things for their trip.

Gordon pulled up to his house, which was dark. He was worried for a moment before he saw her wandering along the beach.

He watched her from the driveway, noting the sadness that seemed to engulf her figure. Her expressive hands were linked behind her back as she wandered.

"Not all who wander are lost, Gordon," she'd said to him once.

But she looked lost now, lost and dejected. He couldn't help but feel like he had done this to her, couldn't help but feel that she knew about his relationship with Heather. Gordon watched as she sat down on a large rock and buried her face in her hands. The shaking of her shoulders made it clear that she was crying, sobbing her heart out.

He began to walk down to the beach, laying a hand on her shoulder when he reached her. She jumped, looking up at him.

"Are you all right, Jean?" he asked her, sitting down next to her.

She closed her eyes, turning away from him. She didn't want him to see her tears.

"I'm all right," she murmured.

"Won't you come inside, dear?" he asked her, and she nodded, allowing him to lead her into the house.

"Gordon, darling, if you don't want to go to Italy we don't have to," she said. "I'm sure that I can cancel the tickets."

"I do want to go, love," he said.

"Really?"

He nodded.

She gave him a trembling smile. "I'm going to bed – we do have to get up early in the morning."

"Don't you want dinner?"

She shook her head. "I'll set the alarm for four thirty, all right?"

He nodded.

"I love you, Gordon," she said, kissing his lips lightly. He watched as she mounted the stairs to his bedroom. He entered the kitchen and began to make a sandwich for himself for supper.

Chewing pensively, he thought of his lover and his would-be wife. He loved Jean, oh, how he loved her! But she would never marry him, he realised now. She had only accepted his ring because she had never intended to marry him. He was saddened by this realisation, but it made his decision to leave Jean for Heather easier.

He cleaned up his dishes and walked up the stairs, entering his bedroom. Jean was sleeping soundly in the bed. Her diary was spread open on the nightstand. He felt a surge of curiosity, and, despite his better judgement, he picked it up and left the room to read it.

'Gordon doesn't love me anymore, I just know it. Oh, why, why? I DO love him, though I know I haven't shown it nearly enough. I can't lose him...' He shut the diary, feeling incredibly guilty for having invaded her privacy and for what he had read. Quietly, he re-entered the bedroom and placed her diary softly on the nightstand, before getting changed into his pyjamas. He slipped into bed beside her and tried to fall asleep, but he couldn't. He wanted to know what else was written in her diary.

He reached for the slender leather volume and, just as he was about to open it, she turned over, moving closer to him. She was shivering and moaning.

"Don't leave me, please, please, don't leave me," she moaned, and he set the diary back down, wrapping his arms around her. She stirred, waking, and looked up at him, fear in her eyes.

"Jean, are you all right?"

"Gordon, are you real?" she asked him, her voice trembling along with the rest of her body.

"Of course, darling," he said, stroking her cheek softly. She urged him to wrap his arms tightly around her, trying to get as close to him as possible.

"Oh, God, Gordon," she whispered, "Gordon..."

He kissed her forehead lightly. "What did you dream, my darling?"

"You left me – I always have nightmares of you leaving me, Gordon."

He held her close. "I'm right here, Jean." She noticed that he didn't say he would never leave her.

"Gordon, love," she took a deep breath, "I love you so much – with all my heart. And, and..." she burst out crying

"Shh," he soothed her, stroking her hair.

"I don't think you love me anymore," she sobbed. "In fact, I know it. You've been growing apart from me for weeks now, months even! It's my fault – I didn't show you enough of my love. Oh, Gordon..."

He continued to stroke her hair, sitting up in bed. He pulled her up with him, cradling her in his lap. She buried her face against his neck, her hands clutching his nightshirt. She cried as he rocked her slowly back and forth, crooning words of comfort into her ear. He felt her slender body racked with sobs.

"Jean, love, don't cry, don't cry..."

"Love me, please love me," she whispered. He didn't hear her. She didn't want to repeat herself, didn't want him to know how much she needed love – not necessarily HIS love, but love in general.

"Go to sleep, darling," he said softly. "We have an early start tomorrow." She closed her eyes to stop her tears and allowed him to gently pull the sheets over her once more.

"I love you, Gordon."

He kissed her forehead. "Sleep, dear."

She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, trying to sleep. She couldn't, though he dropped off quite quickly. Finally, though, she joined him in slumber.

Gordon woke up a half an hour before the alarm clock and slipped out of bed, going downstairs to make breakfast for the two of them. Jean woke up as she heard the bedroom door close behind him. She sighed and climbed out of the bed, noticing that her diary was sitting on her nightstand – closed – and that was not how she left it.

Oh, God, Gordon might have read it! She closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down. She couldn't, wouldn't panic...

The alarm clock went off and she leapt out of the bed, surprised by the sound of the buzzer. She fumbled for the off button, finally managing to turn off the alarm. She got out of bed and then dressed before joining her lover downstairs.

"Good morning, darling," she said, joining him.

"Good morning, Jean."

She sat down at the table as he brought their breakfast to the table. He had made eggs and bacon, simple but nourishing. They ate their breakfast in silence, both of them exhausted from the previous night's events, and then, when they were finished, they cleaned up the dishes.

"Nearly ready, Jean?"

She nodded in response, standing up to gather her things together. He had brought their trunks down last night and loaded them in the boot. Picking up her purse and cardigan, she linked her arm through his and they walked out to the car.

They made good time, arriving at the station an hour before the train was to leave. Their things were taken by a porter and they were showed to their compartment. Though it was a first class compartment, it was smaller than the one they had had on their previous trip to Italy.

"I am quite sorry, Gordon," she said, blushing slightly as she noticed his expression of disapproval. "My meagre budget does not extend to the luxury that you are used to."

He turned to her. "It will be fine, Jean," he said. And he supposed it would be, though he now wished that he had bought the tickets himself. If he had, then they at least would have had a better compartment.

"Shall I begin to unpack?" her voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"All right," he responded, and she opened their trunks. "I'll see what time the meals are served."

"Mmm," she responded, absorbed in her task. He walked over to her, wanting to press a light kiss against her golden hair, but changed his mind and exited the room without another word. She paused in the unpacking and closed her eyes. She knew that this was the beginning of the end. After this trip something would change – either she would be engaged to him or they would not see each other again. And she didn't know what the preferable option was.

Shaking her head slightly, she resumed the unpacking. She had time, not a lot, but enough. And she would make up her mind before the end of their trip.

Jean had finished unpacking quite quickly and settled on the bed, a copy of D.H. Lawrence's "Sons and Lovers" in hand. The bed was quite narrow, and one of them would have to risk tumbling to the floor. During the beginning of their relationship, he would have gallantly offered to have the outside, but now... now she suspected that he would not.

She opened her book and began to read, finishing the first two chapters before Gordon joined her.

"Dinner's in a half-hour," he told her, seating himself on the small sofa in their room. She set aside the book and joined him, resting her head on his shoulder. Jean took his hand and entwined her fingers with his; he looked away.

"Gordon, I'm sorry that this compartment bothers you so much," she said.

"It's fine, Jean," he said, his voice tense. She stroked his chest lightly with her free hand.

"We'll have a better room in Florence," she continued, "We've been promised a room with a view."

He made a non-committal sound and Jean stopped speaking.

"I'll get ready for dinner, then," she said and stood up from the couch. She made her way to the vanity and began applying her cosmetics – she had already changed. He watched her impassively, his detached gaze noticing the sadness that was expressed in her blue eyes.

She finished and stood up from the vanity. He stood as well and offered her his arm and they went to dinner.

They returned several hours later, and, after getting changed, they curled up in bed together.

She began to kiss him. This was their last chance, she thought with a kind of desperate passion. If things did not work out then their relationship would end when they returned to Edinburgh. She couldn't have that happen.

His response was lacklustre, his caresses hardly caresses at all.

"Gordon," she whispered when they broke apart, "what's wrong?"

"I'm tired," he said. She nodded and allowed him to lie back against the pillows, closing his eyes. Snuggling closer to him, she closed her eyes to stop the tears from coming when he didn't wrap his arms around her. She waited until she believed he was asleep to begin sob.

He wasn't asleep. He listened to his lover cry, unwilling to do anything to comfort her.

The next morning, after breakfast, Jean returned to their compartment while Gordon went to the smoking room. While he was away, she began drafting a letter to him.

"My dearest, most darling Gordon,  
Oh, I love you, I do. These past few years have been so wonderful. I do enjoy spending time with you – just relaxing together, or travelling together, but especially when we make love. Gordon, I love you – I always have and I always will. You have been so kind, so gentle to me during these four wonderful years, and I love you so, so much.

I know that things have been difficult during the past few weeks, and I am willing to try to make things better. However, if you don't want us to be together anymore, then I will accept your decision.

Whatever happens between us, darling, please don't alter. I love you shamelessly.

Yours,  
Jean."

She read the letter once more before placing it in an envelope. She sealed the envelope and wrote his name on the outside, placing it on his pillow. Jean looked at her watch – it was nearly time for lunch. She powdered her nose lightly before joining her lover in the dining room.

After lunch they returned to their compartment, and Gordon noticed the letter on his pillow.

"What's this?" he asked her.

She smiled nervously at him. "It's a letter I wrote to you," she said.

He was touched and told her so.

"Open it," she urged him, and he did, sitting down on the bed. She perched anxiously on the opposite edge.

"My dearest, most darling Gordon,  
Oh, I love you, I do. These past few years have been so wonderful. I do enjoy spending time with you – just relaxing together, or travelling together, but especially when we make love. Gordon, I love you – I always have and I always will. You have been so kind, so gentle to me during these four wonderful years, and I love you so, so much.

I know that things have been difficult during the past few weeks, and I am willing to try to make things better. However, if you don't want us to be together anymore, then I will accept your decision.

Whatever happens between us, darling, please don't alter. I love you shamelessly.

Yours,  
Jean."

He looked up at her. "Did you mean it, Jean?"

She nodded tentatively. "Did – did you like it?"

He stood up and walked over to her, cupping her face in his hands.

"Oh, my darling," he whispered, "I do love you."

She closed her eyes and their lips met in a blissful kiss.

***

The rest of their trip passed in comparative delight, both Gordon and Jean enjoying each other's company. And when they were in Florence, Jean made up her mind about the future of their relationship.

"In a year or so, after my girls have graduated, we should get married here," she said one evening when they were dining in a small outdoor café, a few days before they were to leave for Edinburgh.

He dropped his glass in surprise, the red wine pooling on the cobblestones like blood. A waiter rushed over and began mopping up the spill but Gordon paid him no mind.

"What?"

"We should get married here," she repeated.

"Jean – do you mean that?"

She took a deep breath. "Yes."

He raised her hand to her lips, his eyes filled with love.

"Oh, darling, I love you."

She smiled at him. "I love you too."

***

They re-boarded the train three days later. Gordon had wanted to give her his mother's engagement ring, but she had demurred.

"Not yet, darling," she said, "After my girls graduate, then we can announce our engagement."

During their time in Italy, despite their relative happiness, he wrote to Heather every day.

"Dear Heather,  
Italy is lovely, though I wish you were here with me to enjoy the sights..."

"Dear Heather,  
I've seen so many wonderful things, though I cannot enjoy them as I would if you were here with me..."

"Dear Heather,  
I hope you are well – I miss you. Though Italy is still wonderful, I just want to be back in Edinburgh with you..."

Jean found one of these letters before he mailed it. She was injured by its affectionate, loving contents – especially as it was the day after they had agreed to marry in a year.

She couldn't lose him. She couldn't...

***

"Jean, after we're married, will we have children?" he asked her as they lay in their bed on the Orient Express. They were still six days away from Edinburgh.

She turned to him in the narrow bed, propping herself up on her elbow.

"I'd like to, Gordon," she said. She did want to be a mother, but when Hugh had died, she never thought that she'd have a chance. And now... well, she wanted Teddy's children, she wanted to be with Teddy, but that would never happen. She'd have to settle for Gordon... "I think you'd be a wonderful father, though I'm not quite so sure how I'll measure up as a mother."

He stroked her cheek lightly, smiling up at her. "Jean, you'll be a magnificent mother. Just look at your girls – they've all turned out wonderfully." His hand moved from her cheek to her abdomen, settling on her flat stomach. His eyes travelled up to catch her gaze, which was warm and loving.

"Just one more year," he whispered, his hand rubbing soft circles on her belly.

"One more year," Jean echoed. She leaned down and kissed him again.

She lay in his arms afterwards, her blue eyes sparkling, her lips red from kissing him, and her body soft and warm against his.

"You are beautiful, Jean Brodie," he said.

She smiled softly. "Thank you."

He loved her more in that moment than he had in quite some time. He pressed a kiss in her soft golden hair as he felt her breathing even out and saw her eyelids flutter closed, hiding her deep blue eyes from view. Her gentle curves rested against his body as she breathed in, out, slowly. Oh, how he loved her...

***

But their happiness came to quite an abrupt end when they returned to Edinburgh. Away from the romantic climate of Italy, he once more took up with Heather Lockhart, neglecting his fiancée.

She was desperate – she had tried everything, everything! to keep him with her. She had even promised to marry him, to have children with him. But still he saw Heather.

Was it her fault? Had she changed him so much by having an affair with him? She hated to admit it but she loved him. She even half-believed that, with time, she could grow to love him as much as she loved Teddy. But if he took up with Heather...

***

Over the summer Sandy seduced Teddy. It was easy, so easy for her to do – he wanted Jean so very much, and she was so like her teacher, that it took very little effort to lure him to bed. She enjoyed sleeping with him because it made her feel closer to Jean.

During this time she came to the conclusion that she, too, was in love with Jean Brodie. And how could she not be? Jean was beautiful, clever, passionate... she couldn't help herself. So she placed herself in a position to receive Jean's love. But she hadn't told her of her affair with the man she loved – not yet. She was waiting for the right time...

***

In October, Mary McGregor's brother ran away to Spain to fight. Jean, who had channelled her excess energy into politics, had begun raising money for Franco. Even though she had agreed to marry Gordon in the summer, he had stopped spending so much time with her. She was desperate to keep him, tried desperately to make him love her, but it was to no avail. But every once in a while, he would desire her desperately and sweep her off to Cramond, where they would make passionate love until dawn. But he always returned her to her flat on Sunday evenings.

So she began channelling her excess energy into preparing Jenny to be Teddy's lover and Mary to go to Spain to fight with Franco. That was her sole purpose in life, now that Gordon had distanced himself from her.

***

She hated the way she needed love. It made her weak, and Jean Brodie was NOT weak. But she craved love like some people craved alcohol. She needed affection, tenderness, and sex. She was a very physical and passionate woman, desiring a man's warmth in her bed at night as much as she desired a man's love.

And so these long weeks without Gordon or any other man seemed interminable. She needed him, she did – the longer they were apart the more frustrated she grew. It seemed as though this cycle of dissatisfaction would continue forever.

***

She brought her new group of students out to the oak tree that spring, just as she had brought her girls.

"Generalissimo Franco is called El Jefe, the chief. J-E-F-E, the "j" is silent. El Jefe. He is a dedicated man. You must all grow up to be dedicated women, as Generalissimo Franco has dedicated himself to a cause; as I have dedicated myself to you. Dedication is the order of the day." She saw Mary, Jenny, and Monica approaching her, her girls dressed in tennis whites and carrying their racquets.

"Oh, Mary McGregor, girls, come and join us!" She took Mary's hand. "Mary, dear, is there any news from your brother from Spain?"

"No, Miss Brodie," Mary replied, worried, "nothing. Mr. Ealing at the b-bank is sending for him – sending d-d-detectives to Spain!"

"Your brother is being sent for?" she turned to her girls in anger. "Mr. Ealing at the bank would send for Caesar! The Mr. Ealings at the bank have tried throughout history to stay the march of civilisation. Why can't they understand? It should be obvious to the meanest intelligence. Franco's army comprises the best elements of Spain and her supporters. They are committed to heroic action. You little girls are living in a time that will demand all that you have to give of courage and gallantry. You must become heroines. Heroines!"

"Do you mean we will have to march and shoot guns?" one of her girls piped up.

"If you are called."

"Girls?"

"Have you never heard of Hannah Snell? She was an English girl born in 1723 and sailed in Admiral Boscawen's fleet, and fought at Araapong. She was wounded, but without medical aid, she extracted the bullet from her own shoulder and lived to serve again. Hannah Snell was a girl!"

"Oh!" her girls exclaimed.

"Now, you, too, must be prepared to serve, suffer, and sacrifice. Are you prepared?"

"Yes, Miss Brodie!" her girls chimed.

"Yes, Miss Brodie," Mary McGregor said.

Jean beamed.

***

But then something wonderful happened, breaking the despondency that had settled over her. Mary McGregor, the girl who had often frustrated her to no end, finally did something worthwhile. She ran off to Spain to fight for Franco.

Jean was beside herself with joy, thrilled that her least-favourite girl had finally, FINALLY proved her worth. She hadn't made a mistake in singling her out all those years ago.

***

She began tracking the troops' movements, and Teddy found her one morning doing just that.

"Moving your troops to Barcelona?" he asked her.

She still felt her heart flutter as he spoke to her, but she recovered quickly. "Mary McGregor has gone to join her brother," Jean explained, "he is her only kin."

"Yes, I heard you've been raising funds for Franco – I find that extraordinary."

She shrugged. "The times are extraordinary."

He stayed and watched until she finished, then left as quietly as he came.

***

Three days after Mary McGregor had left for Spain, Gordon Lowther proposed to Heather Lockhart, who accepted. They had agreed to announce their engagement to Miss Mackay the day before the end-of-term party.

He had slept with Jean a month before for the last time, though he did not have the courage to tell her so. He would miss her, miss her desperately, but he never believed that, when it came to it, she'd marry him – even though she had promised him they would marry this summer. So he had decided to propose to Heather instead, knowing that she would settle down with him, bear his children. And she had accepted.

***

Three days after Mary had left for Spain, while she was taking a shower, she heard someone banging on her door. She dried off as quickly as she could, slipping into her dressing gown, but by the time she opened her door whoever it was had gone.

She looked around and saw a newspaper lying on the ground, Mary McGregor's photograph prominently displayed. She felt a sinking feeling of foreboding as she picked up the newspaper.

"Oh! Oh, Mary McGregor..." she trailed off, placing one hand on the wall for support. She was dead. Mary was dead.

***

The next day, two days before the end-of-term party, she wore black. Miss Mackay gave an abbreviated version of a memorial service for Mary, one that did not properly honour her. So Jean gathered her girls together to tell them the truth.

"Girls, I have called you together – my special girls – to tell you the truth about Mary McGregor. Miss Mackay has told you the facts about Mary's death – how the train was bombed and machine-gunned as it crossed the frontier – but only I can tell you the truth. Mary McGregor died a heroine. It was her intention to fight for Franco against the forces of darkness. So although she was killed before she herself could strike a blow, her intention was a noble and heroic one. Had she lived, Mary would have become a woman of great spirit and initiative. Hers would have been a dedicated life. You must all grow up to be dedicated women – as Mary McGregor dedicated her youth to a cause – as I have dedicated myself to you. Tonight, little girls, let your imaginations soar. Think of Joan of Arc, Florence Nightingale. Think of Mary McGregor. Who among you has the makings of a heroine?"

Clara, one of her favourites, raised her hand.

"Yes, Clara?"

"May we think of you, Miss Brodie?"

Jean was touched. "Well, why not? Deep in most of us is the potential for greatness, or the potential to inspire greatness." She paused, noticing the sunset streaking across the floor of her classroom like blood. "The day draws late. Your families will be expecting you. Take home the story of Mary McGregor." Her girls filed out, Sandy lingering a bit behind.

"Sandy?" Jean called, and she turned. "I thought you and I might have tea together. I wanted to talk to you about Mary."

"I'm sorry, but I have some work to do," Sandy replied.

Jean sighed. "How busy and grown-up you've become. Well, I won't try to stop you, but you must remember how much I do depend on you."

"I'll remember," Sandy said. Jean watched as she left her classroom, feeling as though this was the end of an era. And, in a way, it was.

END

CONTINUED IN "A TEACHER OR A LEADER?"


End file.
